


Compass Calling

by Sugarbowl



Category: GOT7
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad Flirting, Bad swordplay, Blood and Injury, Comeplay, Frottage, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Rimming, Romance, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarbowl/pseuds/Sugarbowl
Summary: Prince Jinyoung is destined for a lifetime of luxury, until he's shoved in a trunk and accidentally abducted. Im Jaebum clawed his way out of poverty to captain a pirate ship and... not much else, actually. Jinyoung could be his first real treasure, if Jaebum could just figure out how holding someone for ransom actually works.





	1. Midsummer Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm finally working on my Pirate/Prince AU! 
> 
> A few things of note... I chickened out of using actual historical pirates because that involves... actual history, and geography etc. I still did a fair bit of research, but this takes place in an entirely fictional setting. I apologize in advance if my country names feel too hokey and such. I'm sure you can guess where a lot of the inspiration has been pulled from. I'm also not using a lot of pirate-y lingo, at least not all at once. Still want everybody to feel like themselves. 
> 
> And I'm borrowing some other boy groups for supporting roles, apologies if I mischaracterize any of your favs, I will try to keep them purposeful. I just find it fun to build out a bigger cast.
> 
> We will get to smut and romance and all of that juicy stuff eventually but it's going to take us a little while to get there. Putting everybody in the right place for that takes time, but I hope it's not too boring in the meantime. Let me know what you think!! :)

 

_Avanth;_

Prince Jinyoung touches the satin bow at his neck, feeling suddenly uneasy. He's used to public events, naturally, but today's casts a strange aura. The tropical heat feels unbearable for a moment, and he stares down at the heaving crowds assembled throughout the courtyard beneath their balcony with a pinch of claustrophobia.

BamBam presses in at his elbow with suspicious eyes. “Your royal magnificence,” he says teasingly, fluttering his long lashes. “Shouldn't you address our subjects?”

Jinyoung shuts his eyes and breathes deeply for a moment, trying to appear at peace for the hundreds of eyes on both of them. The younger prince, his half-brother, loves to needle at him. But Jinyoung knows he's right regardless, and steps forward slightly to raise an elegant hand in greeting.

The crowds below cheer, and he does find comfort in the myriad happy faces. Jinyoung marvels for a moment, as always, at how they seem so pleased by his simple gesture, and he ducks back shyly.

“Oho, leave them wanting more,” BamBam says under his breath, “a classic _eldest_ maneuver. They go crazy for that. And lucky for them, the younger and _handsomer_ prince is more than willing to make up for it.”

Jinyoung barely resists an eyeroll in case of any eagle-eyed constituents, as the younger darts forward to the railing and waves sweepingly with a whoop.

“Hello to one and all!” He hollers, face beaming. “Isn’t the weather gorgeous today?”

The crowd goes wild, one drunkard slamming his tankard up to the sky so the ale goes sprinkling across the entire audience. No one seems to mind, Jinyoung notes, demurely covering a laugh with his hand.

A rumbling laugh follows the lively display, and Jinyoung and BamBam both straighten and retreat from the edge of the balcony. Their father, King Park, Jinyoung the First, steps forward to greet the citizens of Avanth according to tradition.

The reaction is considerably more contained, as if both sons and subjects have been caught misbehaving and attempt to regather some dignity.

But: “Are we ready to party or _what_?” King Park crows, and the audience screams in wild, unrestrained delight. Jinyoung doesn’t hide his next laugh, the giddiness of the crowd overwhelmingly contagious.

It’s midsummer solstice, one of Avanth’s most sacred times of festival. Celebrations are already underway, some families holding to the tradition of merrymaking from dawn to sunset.

King Park hosts a jousting tournament and several dozens of carnival vendors on the castle grounds, holds mock court and coordinates a massive fireworks display.

It's one of the most magical times of the year, but it's also notoriously colored with raucous overindulgence and petty crime. So Jinyoung prefers to lay low, keeping to his inner quarters and watching fireworks from his window.

“This year, you've got to mingle with _the people_ ,” BamBam insists, immediately at Jinyoung's side once they dismiss. “Rub some elbows.”

“The _people_ are already quite fond of me,” Jinyoung counters, “without any rubbing.”

“You’re seen as cold,” BamBam presses, poking him in the ribcage as they stroll through the halls of the castle. “Jungkook told me. Didn't you?”

BamBam’s valet, a quiet but confident boy assigned to his younger brother’s care since childhood, pops out from behind BamBam’s side immediately.

“I did. They do say as such in town,” Jungkook agrees, too quickly and solemnly for Jinyoung to trust it.

“What do they say, exactly?” Jinyoung asks, slowing their walk.

“ _The eldest prince is_ so _cold_ ,” Jungkook drones.

“Frigid,” BamBam embellishes.

“They're sad to see your excellency leave soon,” Jungkook adds, eyes brightening as if he just recalled. “Due to your engagement.”

“Yes!” BamBam doesn't even hide how new this angle of approach is. “The marriage, _of course_! They want to see their precious eldest prince before he's auctioned off.”

“I'm not being auctioned,” Jinyoung grits out, as they come to a pause at his bedchamber door. A guard holds it open, and they all shuffle inside, to Jinyoung’s dismay.

“Did the Queen require my presence for you to attend the festivities?” Jinyoung guesses, and watches as BamBam and Jungkook frown at each other. BamBam’s mother, the king’s second wife, was fiercely protective of the younger prince.

Jinyoung, having lost his mother before he could recall, secretly found great comfort in watching them together. He would always honor her wishes in attempts to coddle BamBam.

“Honestly Kook, you couldn't do better than ‘ _the eldest prince is so cold,’ —_ what do we even pay you for?” BamBam whines.

“Your highness,” Jungkook bows comically deep in apology, not even bothering to hide his annoyed expression. “You pay me to dress you and keep silent, usually.”

Jinyoung cannot stifle his snort of amusement, and BamBam looks hopeful again.

“You know,” says BamBam softly, “your subjects aren't the only ones who will miss you after your move to Anduçal in the next month. Who will keep after me about attending my etiquette lessons?”

“Well _ideally_ , your tutors,” Jinyoung snarks, but it's with a smile. “Or maybe, just the sheer weight of responsibility owed to the people of Avanth.”

“One last night of bachelor revelry,” BamBam gushes, hand over heart. “With your favorite brother.”

“My only brother,” Jinyoung says, patting him on the shoulder, before he heaves a sigh. “Jungkook, would you request for a security detail, please?”

BamBam actually whines, stamping his boots. “The guards never let us do anything, though,” he says. “And last year when I went with Mother, they took a bite of every food before we could.”

“To make sure the Queen wouldn’t be poisoned?” Jinyoung suggests.

“Why would anyone _poison_ us, at Midsummer?” BamBam groans. “Everybody is too busy burning herbs, or drinking til dawn. Who has time for poison, when there are games, and skewered rabbit, and nog and ales?”

“Nog,” Jungkook interrupts grimly, “is nearly poison.”

“I’m glad you feel so at ease,” says Jinyoung with an eyeroll. “But we can’t go alone.”

“Your highness,” Jungkook nods stiffly. His serious expression reminds Jinyoung of a determined chipmunk. “I am well-versed in the martial arts of the region, and would enjoy the fresh air.”

“Regional martial arts?” Jinyoung asks, skeptical. “Such as?”

“Finding a large stick,” says Jungkook, and BamBam shrieks and turns away in laughter.

Jinyoung lets out a long sigh, wrinkling his nose in disapproval. “We will only take a few turns around the castle carnival,” he says. “I want to be back before the fireworks display. My room has an excellent view.” He gestures at his tall windows.

“Does it?” Jungkook says dubiously, peeking out at the view, just as BamBam huffs and smacks Jinyoung on the arm.

“Midsummer festival isn’t any good unless you go into _town_ ,” BamBam insists. “Jungkook is a local ruffian, he knows all the best spots.”

“And, respectfully!” Jungkook chimes in, ignoring the _ruffian_ barb. “There’s no better place to see a firework than right out beneath them, on the docks.”

“The _docks_?” Jinyoung repeats, skin already prickling with nerves. “That’s awfully far out.”

“They burst right above you,” Jungkook says. “They look enormous. They fill the whole sky with light.”

And Jinyoung feels a bittersweet tugging in his chest, looking out at the twinkling lights of the night sky and the carnival below, and nods in spite of his concerns.

“Cloaks!” BamBam cries out, and they start to rifle through Jinyoung’s wardrobe. “Let’s get some cloaks so we’re not too recognizable, and figure a way out of here!”

“I can get you out easy enough, through the blacksmithing stall out back,” Jungkook says, once they’re covered up and swiftly hurrying down the hall a moment later. “Ever since Hyunwoo ran off with that boy in your court last week, they haven’t hired a replacement, so it’s still empty.”

“Minhyuk? With the blacksmith?” Jinyoung asks, cheeks pink. “His family said he went abroad for school, I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”

“I’ve heard they’re pirates now,” BamBam whispers, elbowing Jungkook. “Have you heard?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Ever since I told you I knew some kids who became pirates,” he snickers. “You’re obsessed. Not everybody who leaves becomes a pirate.”

“I’m not obsessed,” BamBam says, waving a hand. “At the gambling hall last week, someone said the royal blacksmith was sailing with Jooheon now.”

“The _gambling hall_?” Jinyoung snaps, as they slip out of the blacksmith shop and onto the busy village roads. “What have you been up to?”

“I don’t gamble,” BamBam assures him. “It’s a good place to drink quietly, and listen.”

“Since when do you drink _quietly?”_ Jungkook chortles, but a glance at Jinyoung and his face goes blank and serious once again. “This way into town,” he says primly.

“Who is Jooheon?” Jinyoung presses, eyes darting about the crowded cobblestone streets nervously. The lantern decorations and hum of revelry make it seem cozy and inviting, but every passerby makes him nervous.

“Jooheon and Jackson,” BamBam hisses, eyes round. “Only the two most notorious pirate shipmates. You really don’t _know_?”

“What business is it of mine to know pirates by name?” Jinyoung counters. “What is a prince doing in a gambling hall, drinking and talking about pirates?”

“Having a _good time_ ,” BamBam mumbles.

“Should we be worried about any pirates, tonight?” Jinyoung wonders, pressing a hand to the bow at his throat again.

“Of course not,” Jungkook assures him. “Shall we stop in here for a moment, it’s one of our favorite taverns.”

“ _One_ of... _our_ favorites?” Jinyoung repeats grimly, and BamBam immediately shucks his cloak’s hood as they slip inside.

“Lisa!” He cries out cheerfully, waving his hand at one of the barmaids as they settle at a corner of a long table.

Jinyoung blinks, dumbfounded as he settles stiffly onto a bench and stares at his brother as if seeing him for the first time. Surrounded by friendly tavern-goers, shaking hands gleefully, Jinyoung’s rage at his impropriety fizzles away quickly. Not for the first time, Jinyoung feels envious of BamBam’s natural, easy charisma.

It will be good for Jinyoung to move on to Anduçal, he thinks, if only for BamBam to continue to bloom here. And perhaps his own worth is better situated beside someone else.

“A round on the house,” the pretty blonde barmaid is saying, setting down heavy steins as if they’re weightless.

//

Hours later, Jinyoung feels pleasantly buzzed and somehow lighter, even though his belly is full with more than his share of indulgent festival food.

He trails along behind BamBam and Jungkook, now grouped up with some of Jungkook’s village friends. They still seem like a tightknit bunch, despite Jungkook living in the castle since childhood.

“I haven't heard word from Suga or J-Hope for an age now,” one of his friends is saying to him, a dimpled face gone serious.

Jinyoung follows along a little closer but keeps silent, curious.

“They said the Bheir Islands setup would take longer,” Jungkook whispers back. “It should be okay, right?”

“I just don't like not knowing,” says the taller boy. “Especially since that's Crank territory.”

“But it’d gone quiet recently, that's why they agreed Bheir would be doable.” Jungkook points out.

“I don't _like_ quiet,” the other says. “If Cranks aren't in Crank territory, where are they?”

“What's a crank?” Jinyoung blurts out, and Jungkook and his friend turn, startled.

“The nastiest pi—!” The taller one starts, enthusiastically, but Jungkook elbows him in the ribs.

“Yah! Precious eldest!” BamBam calls out suddenly, hurrying from the front of the group to grasp Jinyoung’s hand with a giddy laugh. “Let’s get our herbs read, don't you want to dream of your future husband tonight?”

He tugs him away to an older woman’s market stall.

The fortuneteller is almost all wrinkles, dramatically draped in sequins and silks. She squints up at Jinyoung before startling visibly in recognition. “Why your highness,” she croaks out. “Whatever do you need your fortune read for? We all know you’re set to marry that handsome duke.”

Jinyoung smiles shyly, even as BamBam presses him aside and plops an hefty bag of coins down on her stand. “There’s still a fortune hiding there,” BamBam says. “Will he be any good in bed?”

The old lady cackles along with BamBam and Jungkook, while Jinyoung rolls his eyes.

She grinds up a handful of blended herbs with her stone pestle, muttering all the while, before dumping the mortar over onto the tabletop. She spits lightly into the pile and puts a flame to it.

Avanthian folklore indicates magic is strong under a midsummer moon, and matchmaking fortunes are especially popular. Burning the herbs and reading the ashes is at best considered an antiquated custom, if not an outright scam. But Jinyoung’s stomach still flutters in anticipation.

The fire doesn’t take. The back of Jinyoung’s neck prickles anxiously, as the old fortuneteller looks genuinely dumbfounded. She angles the stub of candle about the herbs from different angles, digging the wick into the center until it even douses the flame. Jinyoung’s breath hitches nervously.

“Did you use too much spit?” BamBam is asking, when there’s suddenly a crack of gunshots, screams, and a huge rumble throughout the area.

The immediate sensation of warmth on the side of Jinyoung’s face is bizarre, barely registering as he turns. The jovial crowds are suddenly churning with alarm, racing away from the shore. Everything around him seems to slow down as the scene teeters into chaos.

The old woman before them abandons the reading, hurriedly packing her things. “A raid!” She says mournfully, scooping her mortar back into a bag slung over her shoulder. “I thought I’d seen the last in my day!” She’s scurrying away before Jinyoung can say anything.

He turns back to the source of the commotion with the others, peers down to the shoreline to see what had caused such a tremor. A Navy structure on the coast has _exploded_ , a fire suddenly raging. Dark smoke billows into the night sky, black on black. The sparks and flames are spreading fast, already reaching adjacent buildings and creeping up the mainland quickly.

“ _Who_ –?” Jinyoung begins to call out, just as another gunshot rings and he sees a man being shot in the distance. Jinyoung feels bile rise in his throat, as even between the passing shoulders and panicked faces of villagers running the opposite direction, his eyes can still see every twitch and twist of pain on the man's face as he falls. He looks like a farmer. He was carrying a little flower wreath.

And the man who shot him — tall, face painted like a skull, dressed in tatters — collects his coinpurse and is already moving on.

Another man with similar, eerie facepaint crosses Jinyoung's vision in the crowd then, and his gaze locks onto his, eyes dark and menacing. Jinyoung's blood runs cold as he sees the man striding directly toward them, a dripping hatchet in his dirty hand.

“ _Cranks!_ ” A voice calls out beside Jinyoung, and he turns to see Jungkook's friends gathering around BamBam and reaching out for him.

But the shoving crowds feel like the ocean’s tide, Jinyoung thinks in a daze, pulling him back just as it elbows the others forward. Jinyoung looks back over his shoulder for the man with the hatchet but he can't see him, can't see anything but flames and smoke and so much terror in everyone's eyes.

“ _Namjoon_!” He hears Jungkook. “You've got to hide him!”

Jinyoung feels someone grab his arm, and it’s Jungkook’s tall friend, yanking him in another direction.

Jinyoung glances back toward where he last saw BamBam, and he thinks he hears a strained cry of “ _Hyung_!” in the distance. But his brother is gone, and Jinyoung feels sick to his stomach.

Namjoon drags him east, toward more houses and less cobblestone paths. They dip through alleys and double back a few times. Jinyoung’s head spins, disheartened and bewildered as he realizes he’s completely lost.

“Sorry for the roughhousing, your Highness,” Namjoon says lowly as they cut through someone’s stable and the clamor is dampened for a moment. “But we need to get you out of sight, and fast.”

An old mare whinnies, startled as they brush past her flanks. Jinyoung runs his hand comfortingly down her long nose as he passes, hoping to draw some calm from the warmth of the horse’s breath on his fingertips.

“Those Cranks don’t play lightly,” Namjoon continues, forcing open the back door, and they step out into the night again. They’re closer to the water but it seems quieter, as most of the chaos has moved farther inland, so maybe Namjoon has the right idea.

Between a fishery and a closed market stall in the smaller marina, there’s a collection of empty barrels and trunks. Some smell of old fish, and Jinyoung’s stomach flips nauseously. Namjoon starts to rifle through them, as Jinyoung looks around in confusion, chest tight.

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

“Here we go,” Namjoon says, holding open a particularly large trunk, lined with fabric scraps. “If it doesn’t look valuable, they probably won’t be interested. And hopefully, they've already been through here. Climb in.”

Jinyoung looks at the claustrophobic trunk warily, hesitating first. But more echoes of screams reach them from the pillaging, and he ducks down and clambers in without another thought.

“We’ll be back for you when we’re sure they’re on their way out, and it's gone quiet.” Namjoon assures him, and then Jinyoung is plunged into darkness as he slams the lid of the trunk shut.

The latch loudly snaps in place, and while Jinyoung knows there's no padlock and he can probably strong-arm his way out if need be, he still feels utterly trapped.

The inky cold of midnight around him doesn't help, and he curls smaller into himself with a soft noise of discontent. How had an evening of light and magic turned so dark so quickly?

Jinyoung had heard of towns being pillaged by pirates before, but it was a rarity in Avanth. While incidents at sea were fairly common with the abundance of trade routes, Avanth was politically rather neutral.

Jinyoung's heart throbs as he thinks again of the man he saw shot, of how small the floral crown had looked in his hand before it limply hit the ground. Had it been for a child? Was a father stripped away from his family? For what purpose?

Jinyoung thinks of a mother he can't remember and curls up tighter.

There's a sudden uptick in noise outside — hushed, hurried voices and heavy clunking. The vibrations carry through the dock and rattle Jinyoung's truck slightly. He buries his face in his cloak and nearly stops breathing.

“Why are we mixing it in with the trash?” An accented voice asks, and Jinyoung's trunk gets shifted slightly. He chokes back a yelp.

“We’ll send the boys back with the boat later,” explains a throatier voice.

There's a bit more shuffle and scuffle, until the pair of footsteps grow distant. Silence returns and Jinyoung breathes deep, trying to calm his nerves.

But more footsteps and louder, clearer voices ring out shortly after.

“They thought they could hide it!” Someone laughs, loud and stuttering.

“Get all of this over, Wonho.” Another voice says, deep and warm. “It's looking like quite a haul.”

“I still feel a little bad,” says another voice. “This used to all _belong_ to someone.”

“Get used to it? Anyway - it's better off with us than Cranks,” says the deep voice. “Fuck, this one's heavy.” Jinyoung's heart hammers in his chest as he feels his trunk being lifted, swaying between hands.

There are loud booms then, thunderous like a summer storm, and Jinyoung wonders if it's cannons or the fireworks he had so desperately wanted to witness. Instead, shut up in a box, he sees nothing, feels nothing, and wonders who will discover his bones one day.

With a sudden jolt and a bang, the trunk is tossed onto an awaiting boat dockside, and it sends Jinyoung's head slamming into a side panel roughly.

He blacks out, unaware of his rapidly shifting surroundings.

//

_A desert isle;_

“You're a good captain, Captain. You're just such an awful pirate, is all,” Yugyeom says, for the hundredth time this week. Has it been a week? Jaebum isn't quite sure.

The sun is relentless, even in the lean-to they've rigged up against a pair of palms. This desert isle is one of the less tortuous he's been left at, but his companion is making a case for it to be one of the worst.

Yugyeom is really starting to smell like rancid coconut water, and the pitch of his voice has grown insufferable. Jaebum stares out at the turquoise ocean and wonders when it's time to seriously consider drowning.

“How did you get that ship from Jooheon in the first place?” Yugyeom wonders. “He's such a fine strategist, I remember he beat that Navy admiral in chess four times in a row. That's how he got that hat.”

“Jooheon is good at chess,” Jaebum concedes, peeling a banana he'd found on the opposite shore that looks dangerously brown and a bit brittle. “But _Jackson_ is a relentless gambler. And in cards, you can only be so good before luck catches up.”

“Was it poker?” Yugyeom wonders. “I was sure you were slop at poker.”

Jaebum snorts. “It was Fish.”

“Jooheon deserves a better quartermaster,” Yugyeom says, scrunching his nose up. “ _I'd_ never bet the whole ship.”

Jaebum looks across at him, the both of them sunburnt brown and unevenly scruffy, clothes ringed with sweat and dirt. They've been marooned here, ship wrested from them by Jooheon and Jackson.

“How noble,” Jaebum sneers, pointing the rotten banana at him, “this little baby deckboy without a ship or even a hat to speak of, runs his squeaky beak off at his Captain about what constitutes a good pirate. Do I need to remind you who got us into our last scuffle? The one that left us here, boatless and crewless?”

“How was I supposed to _know_?” Yugyeom whines. “Jackson was dressed like some stuffy artisan, I thought he'd be an easy swindle. All that jade…”

“Jackson's always had jade connections. You should have seen it as a dead giveaway, as it was.”

“You're the one who couldn't take down Jooheon,” Yugyeom whines. “You had a clear shot.”

“I don't intend on paralyzing every man just for getting in the way of a job. Least of all a man I've known since before your balls dropped, when you waddled out to the docks looking for trouble.”

“And now he’s got your ship,” Yugyeom deadpans. There’s admittedly a pause.

“Not… respectably.” Jaebum’s jaw nearly clicks in annoyance. “I won her, fair and square. They _stole_ her.”

Yugyeom's snort is soft, followed by a sigh of resignation.

“And it's _temporary_ ,” Jaebum adds, stubbornly.

“If we survive,” Yugyeom says.

A beat passes, and Jaebum returns to inspecting the item that was once a banana, wondering if the brief satisfaction of chewing would be worth the inevitable vomit.

“Hyung, what's—?” Yugyeom is murmuring, shifting in the sand beside him as he gets up to his knees.

Jaebum glances without really looking, sees the dot of a ship on the horizon, sighs and tears his eyes away.

“They never venture in past all the rocks,” Jaebum reminds him. “We've tried getting attention before, everybody's too far out.”

Still, Yugyeom stands and toddles weakly forward, squinting miserably against the sunlight.

“Cap, I think—I think they've put a boat in.”

Jaebum tosses the fruit over his shoulder, getting to his feet.

“It must be _them_ ,” he growls.

“Do you think they're in trouble?” Yugyeom wonders. “They need our help? Why else would they come back so soon?”

“Well, don't look so _worried_ ,” Jaebum scolds, flicking him in the ear.

It is, of course, Jooheon and Jackson. The smaller boat glides in at a relaxed rate, pulling up to shore, a pair of crewmen hopping out to secure it.

Jackson offers a dramatic bow, as Jooheon loudly laughs, not bothering to attempt the same. Yugyeom chortles bashfully throughout, like a lovelorn barmaid. Jaebum glares at him, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Jaebum,” greets Jooheon, nodding small and polite.

“A pleasure as always,” Jackson says, wriggling his fingers in a wave. “You're absolutely glowing. What's your secret?”

“The unforgiving scorch of the sun,” Jaebum says dully.

“Intriguing,” Jackson says, “I’m afraid I wouldn't know about that — I have this captain’s hat, see, and it does a phenomenal job of keeping me cool.”

“And may I say, it’s _very_ becoming,” Jooheon says, almost sincerely.

“You _may,_ thank you,” Jackson says, fluttering his lashes.

“What do you want?” Jaebum demands, crossing his arms and trying not to pout directly at his old hat.

“Oh, he's so _straightforward_ ,” Jooheon says in a sickly sweet voice.

“Always,” agrees Jackson. “Always so manly.”

“But is he trying to compensate for something with this attitude?” Jooheon says, putting a finger to his chin.

“Undoubtedly a small— _Jaebum_! Where are you going?” Jackson interrupts himself as Jaebum calmly turns away and starts to walk back to his palm tree.

“Back to my slow death, unless you plan on saying something of import.” Jaebum says tersely, pausing and glancing over his shoulder.

“Alright,” Jackson sighs. “We have a proposition. A second chance, to win back your beloved Nora.”

Yugyeom's delighted reaction, hands clapping and all, nearly cracks a smile out of Jaebum. Instead, he makes sure to look annoyed as he turns back around.

“Another game?” Jaebum asks, eyebrows raised.

“Not so much,” Jooheon says, raising a pistol with a smile, his dimples looking deep and mocking.

“A job offer!” Jackson suggests. “That sounds better, doesn't it? We all know you'd like your ship back, a heartfelt reunion with the crew. What's left of it, anyhow. See, we’re looking to expand our fleet a little bit again. Explore larger opportunities.”

“So we’ll leave Jackson on as your quartermaster,” Jooheon gestures to Jackson with his pistol, and Jackson ducks out of the way, flustered.

“Just temporarily!” Jackson clarifies, angling the gun back at Jaebum with a single finger. “Eventually, the ship is yours completely, crew and all.”

“But you answer to us, indefinitely,” says Jooheon, rattling the pistol, nostrils flared. “Whenever we need you.”

“That's it?” Jaebum asks, “what's the catch?”

“Does there _have_ to be a catch?” Jackson asks, just as Jooheon says: “Five percent of everything.”

Jaebum tilts his head in consideration. Since when have they settled for less than _ten_? It's suspicious all around, but his empty stomach and the sand in his pants makes it sound like an answer to his prayers.

“Fine,” says Jaebum, yanking the pistol out of Jooheon’s hand and testing a shot at the sand a few yards away. Nothing happens. Jaebum examines it further and finds it’s unloaded – a bluff.

Yugyeom laughs out loud, and Jooheon shoots him a grin and a little salute.

“Well, shall we?” Jackson calls over his shoulder, already heading back to the boat and the men waiting. “Wonho, would you mind offering our guests some refreshment?”

Yugyeom and Jaebum race to reach the proffered jug of fresh water, Yugyeom’s long legs besting Jaebum in the blink of an eye. Jaebum clambers into the boat beside him with a resigned sigh, yanking it out of his clutch as soon as the younger man pauses for a breath.

The ride back out to the ship is longer than it had seemed on their approach, working against the tide to start. But once she comes into view, and Jaebum can read ‘ _Nora II’_ carved elegantly on the hull, he lets out a breath of relief.

A loud laugh from on-deck draws their attention and they peer up to see Youngjae, one of their crew members, waving wildly. His white parrot sits perched on his shoulder, squawking excitedly with him.

Yugyeom waves back enthusiastically, even as Youngjae laughs until he’s gasping for air, sagging on the rail. “You two look _awful_!” He manages to shout.

Yugyeom pretends to look insulted but the smile he shoots at Jaebum is one of absolute bliss. They’re home.

//

_At sea;_

After bathing and trying not to over-gorge themselves on dinner, the _Nora II_ meets up with Jooheon’s larger ship, the _Monsta_ , and he transfers with some of the crew. They’re left with fewer than usual, and some strange new faces, but Jaebum is certain they’ll make do. He always does.

The sun is starting to set, and Jaebum strides across the deck in silence, starting to feel more at ease. Yugyeom and Youngjae are flitting about around him, lighting lamps and torches with a hummed harmony shared low under their breath. Everything feels in place.

Something tickles at the nape of Jaebum’s neck, and he turns to find Jackson’s eyes on him, watching from where he’s perched atop a crate, eating an apple.  Jaebum crosses over to him slowly, circling the stack of boxes, trunks and barrels.

“Why isn’t this down in the stores?” Jaebum asks, suspicion prickling at the back of his neck again.

“It underwent some... inspection,” Jackson says coolly. Yugyeom and Youngjae crowd in as well, curious.

“Avanthian Navy,” Youngjae narrates. “We snatched up a bit of loot right out from under a Crank raid. The Navy was on us the next day in their fastest ships, demanding to search all our quarters and some of the barrels.”

“Looking for something,” Jaebum says lowly, glaring at Jackson. “We’ve got stolen treasure on board that a Navy’s looking for? And you dropped this shit on me. No wonder Jooheon was so eager to bail.”

Jackson spits out an appleseed. “What part of this do you have a problem with?” He asks. “Just so we’re clear? Because, you know – we _are_ pirates, so stolen treasure is pretty appropriate. And it’s _bad people’s_ treasure, so it even fits with your queer moral code.”

“The Navy didn’t wait for you to find port somewhere else to search you. They chased you down. It’s something big, isn’t it?” Jaebum presses.

“Well,” Jackson sighs, tossing the core overboard and licking his fingers luxuriously. “I can’t be sure, since they didn’t find it and they wouldn’t say. But they didn’t go through _everything_ ,” he says, gesturing at the boxes.

“You think it’s something _good_?” Yugyeom wonders, edging towards a trunk.

Jaebum recognizes the greedy gleam in his eye as one that’s imperiled them before, and a shiver runs down his spine in anticipation. This can only mean trouble, right?

Yugyeom opens the lid, but he finds only women’s clothing. He holds a dress up against himself with a frown.

“Not really your color,” Jackson quips, and Yugyeom laughs, tossing it back in and kneeling instead beside another trunk, this one toppled on its side.

Yugyeom struggles with the latch for a moment before it there's a satisfying click, and then the lid slams open. Out tumbles a cloaked body, one pale wrist flopping onto the wood of the deck.

Youngjae screeches, Yugyeom scrambling away and hiding behind his legs. Even Jackson, ever-relaxed, slides off his seat with a bewildered expression, and they all creep in closer.

The person doesn’t seem conscious, fingers utterly limp.

“Take off the cloak,” Youngjae whispers, shoving Yugyeom forward again. “Do you think they’re dead?”

Yugyeom whines for a moment, crawling back toward the form nervously. Jaebum crouches for a closer look, keeping a hand near the dagger in his boot.

Yugyeom delicately draws the heavy fabric back off the figure, slowly revealing a slim young man with pale skin, an impeccably embroidered velvet coat, and a sagging bow at his collar. His eyes are shut, but with the cloak removed, they can see the slight movement of each shallow breath.

Yugyeom rolls him onto his back with a gentle press of his shoulder, and they find a face delicately composed even in his unconscious state, pouted lips parting with a soft moan.

Jaebum reaches out to loosen the ribbon around his neck, thinking it may be restricting his breathing. And despite himself, his grip lingers on the slick satin, the feeling so foreign he can’t help but roll it between his fingertips a moment longer.

“Well,” chuckles Jackson. “It’s not the booty we imagined, but it looks pretty good.”

//

 


	2. Artlessly Abducted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We learn quite a little bit more in this chapter! Though I expect you'll probably have more questions as well. Also I hope you guys will trust me with Jaebum's hair... don't fret. 
> 
> And I realized I've never looked up any best practices for formatting for Ao3 before, so I'm trying a new workflow and hopefully that'll save some of my extra time that used to go to fixing every single usage of italics. But apologies if anything else ends up funky in the meantime.
> 
> Please leave me all your wonderful thoughts! I am so excited by everybody's reactions to this AU already.

 

_ At sea; _

Jaebum orders the boy’s hands tied just in case, even as he seems to barely drift back into consciousness.

Youngjae brings a bowl of porridge up from the galley, leftover oats served hasty and cold. Youngjae spoons it into the young man's mouth awkwardly. But he laps it up, clearly having missed a few meals.

“Do you know who this is?” Jaebum finally asks, glowering at a smug-looking Jackson, as the stowaway nearly licks the bowl clean. Youngjae blinks down at the quickly empty bowl in surprise.

“Oh, he's  _ very _ well known in Avanth,” Jackson says with a smirk.

“A noble?” Jaebum turns back, eyes suddenly sharp.

“So maybe he’s worth something?” Yugyeom wonders, crouching down to look into the young man’s face again. “He looks very… clean.”

The captive shifts away from Yugyeom, looking ruffled by the proximity. He sits well-postured, hands neatly clasped together, even as nervous as he seems. Jaebum frowns.

“Jackson, just who have you saddled us with?” He barks. “Should we expect more Navy complications?”

“It’s  _ possible,” _ titters Jackson. “He's a prince, after all.”

“A  _ prince?”  _ Yugyeom says with a gasp. “You gave us a kidnapped prince? Couldn't you have collected quite a ransom?”

“I didn't  _ know _ he was hiding in the trunk,” Jackson admits.  “I do quite wish I'd kept the ship for myself, now that I've seen him. Look at this face!” He reaches out and pinches a cheek, royalty no buffer to Jackson's disregard of boundaries. The prince grimaces.

“The Prince of Avanth… I've never even heard of the place,” Youngjae admits. “It's small?”

“For now,” Jackson says. “But King Park is self-made, very ambitious. He's sweet-talked every township nearby into voluntarily ganging up — or not so voluntarily. It's doubled in size over the last ten years.”

“Self-made?” Youngjae repeats. “How does that work with a king?”

“Same as an old one, probably — money,” says Jackson. “And a bit of bullying, I’d wager. I rather like him.”

“Sounds a bit like a pirate,” Yugyeom murmurs, nodding.

“Prince Jinyoung is called the Peach Blossom Prince. Immensely popular and well-loved by his constituents.” Jackson explains, waving his hand around the prince’s face like he’s presenting an item for auction.

“Peach blossom?” Jaebum asks with a frown. “Peaches aren't even native to Avanth.”

“No,” says Jackson. “But look at these _ lips!” _ He screeches, leaning in close. “Don't they look like two beautiful, pillowy petals?”

Jinyoung leans back as far as possible. Jackson chases him partway and then smirks as he draws back. 

“Have you ever been kissed, Prince Jinyoung?” He asks, deep voice rumbling softly.

Jinyoung angles his jaw away from him more sharply, eyes deeply suspicious. 

“You're the only heir?” Jaebum interrupts, mind reeling as he tries to calculate the young prince’s value. Is he really worth the fuss of demanding a ransom?

“No,” says Jinyoung, wrists twisting uncomfortably in the ropes as he speaks for the first time. “There is a younger prince in line: my half-brother, BamBam.”

His voice is smoky, smooth and even. Jaebum sees now how it ties the princely image together, a beautiful face in beautiful clothes — it could feel cheap, but it's made expensive with a delicately dark, well-accented voice.

_ “BamBam?”  _ Yugyeom titters. “What kind of silly name is that?”

“Is it silly?” Jinyoung counters. “What's  _ your _ name?”

Everyone present can see him visibly strain as he tries to conjure up an alias. “Yugyeom,” he surrenders with a sigh.

“Oh,” says Jinyoung flatly. “Sounds terribly intimidating.” And here’s the sharp edge to the tinted glass of his voice, Jaebum notes. Not many would speak to their kidnappers like this. 

“You’ve got a spare,” Jaebum says with a shrug. “So they won't be missing you too much.”

“I'm betrothed,” Jinyoung blurts out, to raise his perceived price. “The ceremony was supposed to happen in a month. It's to betoken opening a new trade route, with Anduçal.”

“Anduçal,” Yugyeom repeats, nearly humming it. Jackson wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“They’re famous for fine silks and whores, right?” Jaebum asks, sharply.

“And  _ pearls,” _ Jinyoung snaps. “Bushels and barrels of pearls, about to move through the channel more freely than ever. I’d be good for your business, if I’m returned unharmed.”

“They're selling you to some old man to open a trade route?” Youngjae asks, looking at him with a frown. “Is that what you want?”

“It's no old man,” Jinyoung says, crisply. “The Anduçese duke is not yet thirty, known far and wide for his beauty. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him – Chae Hyungwon? And I'm not being sold — it's a mutually beneficial arrangement, for both our small nations.”

“Avanth gets pearls,” Jackson says, “and Anduçal gets what?”

“A beautiful duchess,” says Jinyoung, dryly. Jaebum snorts and looks away. 

_ “And _ our Royal Navy,” the prince continues. “We’ll expand our training expertise to their people and fortify their coastline.”

“So you're  _ bad _ for business,” Jaebum snarls, turning back with a glare.

Jinyoung seems to startle for a half a second, but this micro-expression is quickly extinguished, and he sits up a bit straighter still. “It's an important deal regardless,” he says crisply. “I'm _ important.  _ To both countries.”

“Or they'll probably just send him little WhamWham, instead,” Youngjae says. 

Yugyeom bursts into laughter. Jaebum watches Jinyoung’s face carefully, wondering if the idea makes him jealous, if he's romanticized the political. But the young man barely blinks.

“BamBam won't marry,” Jinyoung says. “His mother is still alive, and she won't allow it for quite some time. She’s angled for him to remain in Avanth and govern.”

“She’ll change her tune when they realize their first sale has fallen through,” Jaebum assures him. “For pearls and the right price, she'll remind him of his duty to your people.”

“Then what will you  _ do with _ me?” Jinyoung snaps, eyes flashing as he stands, flailing his chafing wrists in frustration. “If I am worth nothing, why am I bound at all? Let me go.”

“You’re a stowaway,” Jaebum says. “You didn’t pay for passage on my ship.”

“I was hiding  _ in a trunk  _ and _ stolen!” _ Jinyoung argues.

“And I don't know if you're worth  _ nothing,” _ Jaebum continues. “With a famous, fancy petal mouth like that, I could probably offer you to quite a few blokes in the market for companionship.”

“You could take him by Mark’s place,” Jackson suggests, with a sly smile.

“Mark’s  _ Parlours?” _ Youngjae sputters, cheeks pink.

Yugyeom nods enthusiastically beside him. “Do you think they'd give us a monthly cut for a new companion?” He asks.

There's a pause, as Jinyoung slowly seems to connect the dots.

“You mean to sell me off as a whore?” Jinyoung asks, face paling.

“Well your highness, there's always the possibility. Mark is a good idea,” Jaebum agrees. “And since he's also in Anduçal, maybe we’ll check in with your fiancé anyway. Perhaps he'll have you at a discounted rate, marry your brother & complete the whole collection.”

Jinyoung’s face goes from wan to flushed, a flicker of rage sparking in his eyes, and Jaebum finds himself drawn stumbling into the heat of his indignant gaze.

“So you mean to humiliate me? I would be made into a joke — not even a common prostitute who can live his life in privacy, but I must live in my own name, after it's stripped of any value?”

“I mean to  _ collect,” _ says Jaebum coolly. “And I’d like it to be as simple as possible. If a reward is offered you could be home in no time. But if your father – a  _ king  _ with a  _ Navy  _ –  threatens me, is it worth my men's lives? Better to drop this hot potato before it burns us.”

“I am no  _ potato!” _ Jinyoung yelps, but Jaebum has already turned and started walking away, and he's grateful he can hide an unexpected laugh.

 

//

 

Yugyeom sternly suggests keeping the prince below deck in the hold. There’s a distasteful little prison cell down there from when the ship served other purposes, and Jaebum typically only uses it to store particularly valuable loot since it offers another layer of locking protection.

Jaebum hesitates. He wouldn’t have considered using the cage, but Yugyeom points out once they dock, Jinyoung is likely to run. And in a way, Jinyoung seems like he might be the most valuable treasure they’ve come across in ages. So maybe they need the extra precaution.

It wouldn't be the first time they had lost their loot.

It’s not that Jaebum is a  _ bad _ pirate, as Jackson or Yugyeom or maybe even Youngjae might try to argue. Jaebum has always simply had different priorities.

Growing up on the streets of small merchant cities in the South Islands, Jaebum had little memory of his parents. A sailor’s widow, his mother barely managed to provide for him until her own passing. By then, Jaebum had learned to steal, and the little bit of the moral ambiguity required.

When his mother was getting weaker, Jaebum started bringing home more stolen groceries and feeding her himself. She never pried about how or where he was getting the food, but he remembered her gently suggesting once he was of age, the Navy could provide an honest living for him.

Jaebum didn’t want to be a sailor. Not after the sea had taken his father before he could even meet him. 

But in the islands, there weren't many opportunities. Let alone for uneducated orphans who felt the military unfairly exploited people like himself.

So Jaebum stuck with crime, but he rarely seemed to profit. He wasn’t bad at what he did, but he was often too concerned with righting wrongs where he could — paying land taxes for unlucky farmers whose crops had been blighted, stealing building materials to leave with a crumbling orphanage. 

He never found himself ahead, often caught for petty theft and serving time here and there.

It wasn't until he decided to leave home that piracy found him. Literally, as the ship he'd stowed away on was raided by Jooheon and his cohorts. 

It wasn't a particularly violent affair, Jooheon never fond of messes. And when Jaebum tricked him out of his own sword and turned it on him, Jooheon graciously offered him a place on his crew.

A few years later, Jaebum had gambled him out of the ship and picked up a few more uneducated orphans along the way.

His long-suffering shipmates would certainly argue he was a bad pirate, and they were in need of a big break. Jaebum couldn’t disagree. 

Jaebum feels vaguely sympathetic to the young prince’s discomfort, but he’s certain the king will offer a reward before they go through the hassle of demanding ransom. They could even stage a melodramatic scene where Jaebum saves him from Jackson, and the prince would be returned safely. Maybe Jaebum could even get a medal of some sort.

Jaebum touches a compass in his pocket thoughtfully, watching Youngjae help Jinyoung down the ladder to the hold rather gently, like he’s made of crystal, rather than a captive.

Selling him off to work for Mark would be too severe, Jaebum decides. He hadn’t considered it seriously, heightening the threat along with Jackson for effect. But if it frightens the prince this much, it would be a good tool to keep him in line.

That's what he needed for  _ once _ — for everything to go smoothly.

Being a prince must be a particularly strange sort of burden, Jaebum considers, watching Jinyoung duck his head and disappear below deck. Being sold for sex seemed to offend him, but he spoke so highly of his wedding being a trade deal. 

Jaebum supposes, it’s always hardest to evaluate your own worth.

 

//

 

In the hold, Jinyoung shivers, watching a single torch outside of his cell flickering weakly. The ship groans as it sways, and he nervously eyes the aging wood of the walls, wondering how long it’s been in use. It smells faintly moldy down here, and he can’t see into every corner. 

Youngjae had offered him a coarse blanket with an apologetic smile, and now Jinyoung lays it out across a few crates in the cramped cell in some desperate imitation of a bed.

As long as he can sleep up off the floor, he thinks to himself, maybe he’ll make it through a cold, damp night. He curls up on the blanket stiffly, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders for warmth and staring off into the dimly lit space.

For a pirate vessel, there are surprisingly few items in the stores. And from their brief discussion, Jinyoung can’t quite discern the crew’s rank and relationships. 

Yugyeom and Youngjae seemed startlingly young to be in such a dangerous position, but Jinyoung knows not everyone was afforded much choice in the matter. 

Their still-soft features already tug at his heart, reminding him of his younger brother. Heart aching, he wonders if BamBam is alright.

Resolutely, he promises himself that even if he doesn't make it back home, he has to find out if BamBam is safe.

A scratching sound from across the room tears Jinyoung away from his thoughts, and he bolts upright.

“Hello?” Jinyoung calls out, voice shaky. Is it a rat? Is he about to be eaten alive by dozens of bilge rats, before he can even be sold to a brothel? Jinyoung isn't sure which fate is worse.

Out of the shadows and between the bars slinks a black cat. It is, in fact, proudly carrying a dead rat. 

The cat drops it in front of Jinyoung’s crates, licking a paw and looking smug.

Jinyoung almost wants to cry, he's so relieved. There are rats, yes. But there’s also this brave little hunter, showing off his latest trophy.

Jinyoung slips down cautiously, not wanting to scare his visitor away. He kneels in front of the black cat and watches as it starts to tear into its dinner.

Grateful for the pest control, he tentatively reaches out and scratches the cat behind its ear. When he isn't batted away, he lets his hand run down its fur, gleans a little comfort from the warmth of its small body. 

He’s reminded of patting the horse they’d passed in the stable, when Namjoon was pulling him along, and frowns. Why couldn’t he have just stayed hidden in that stable? What kind of idiot stows a prince in a trunk down on the docks?

Jinyoung’s brows relax as he immediately feels guilty for thinking this way. The circumstances extenuated far beyond anyone’s foresight. It must have been his fate, to be here, cold and smelling of old sweat and seawater. At least this ship’s cat was a more welcoming host than its captain.

“Next time,” he whispers to the cat with a small smile. “Could you nick me some beef? I don't care much for the flavor of rat.”

“Careful,” says a deep voice, and Jinyoung’s head snaps up to find Jackson leaning lazily against his bars. “Kunta likes to scratch,” he says with a smile.

Jinyoung lets his hand curl away from the cat slowly. “He’s been quite civil with me,” he says, tersely.

“Oh,” Jackson laughs, picking up the implication immediately. “I suppose we’ve been a bit rough in comparison, haven't we?”

“Did you want something from me?” Jinyoung asks, getting to his feet again and crossing his arms. “Or did you just come to gawk at the prisoner?”

“I wanted to introduce myself a little more properly,” says Jackson, eyes glittering. “The name is Jackson, and you may have heard of me.”

Jinyoung frowns. “Last night was the first time I heard your name,” he says. “And it ended up being the worst night of my life.”

Jackson actually pouts. “Your  _ highness,” _ he whines, an arm hooking through the bars so he can touch it to his own heart with a wounded expression. “Please don’t let this set of circumstances color your opinion of me. I have nothing but respect and admiration for you and your nation.”

“Which is why we’re sailing away from it to negotiate my selling price?” Jinyoung counters.

“Well, you were being sold to Anduçal before we even came into the picture,” Jackson says coolly, and the words nip at Jinyoung’s pride. 

“But I assure you,” the pirate continues, voice slick and eyes warm like melted chocolate, “I won’t let any harm come to your gorgeous head.” 

Jinyoung shuffles closer, eying him warily, and then startles at the sudden clamor of boots stamping down from the ladder. 

It’s the captain, and he looks even more suspicious than Jinyoung, lips tight and eyes flashing. He steps closely into Jackson’s side, examining his expression in detail.

Jackson, to his credit, doesn’t blink an eye, doesn’t even tremble as he looks up with a grin that feels downright flirtatious. Jinyoung compares them now, side-by-side, the captain’s taller form folding slightly over Jackson’s.

Jackson is broad, his blouse fitted tightly over his biceps. But Jaebum matches his shoulders well, a little leaner where his belt hangs low on his slim hips, several holsters strapped to tense thighs.

“Ahoy there,” says Jackson.

“Would you like to clarify,” the captain hisses, “what you’re doing secretly swearing allegiance to our captive?”

Jackson dips away from him smoothly, still looking unruffled as ever. “I didn’t really say anything about  _ allegiance,” _ he says, hand already on a rung of the ladder.

“All I said was he’d stay safe. Which as you probably know, is pretty important if you plan to collect a reward for his life. But then, maybe you didn’t know, since you guys have always had a little difficulty finishing jobs.”

The captain makes a sour face. 

Jackson shrugs innocently. “And you already know where my loyalties lie.”

“With Jooheon,” the captain supplies, and Jackson tilts his head with a strange expression. 

“You know me a little better than that, don’t you?” Jackson asks, but he clambers up and out of the hold without another word.

Jinyoung shifts his gaze back to the captain, whose eyes are on the ground, a frown etched in his features as if he’s working out a difficult equation in his mind.

“So you’re not Jooheon?” Jinyoung asks, confused.

The captain blinks up at him after another moment of contemplation. “Jooheon?” He repeats. “No. I’m Jaebum. That smiley bastard stole this ship from  _ me. _ Now I've  got her back, but he's left Jackson as a spy and saddled me with  _ you.” _

“I assure you,” Jinyoung says with a disdainful smile, “the burden of this feels  _ quite _ mutual.” He gestures at the cell.

Jaebum steps up against the cell bars, and abruptly reaches through to hook his fingers into the loose bow around Jinyoung’s neck. He tugs him closer with it, Jinyoung stumbling forward in alarm.

Jinyoung’s eyes glaze over slightly as he tries not to blink, tries to stay composed in front of the man who can throw him overboard on a whim. He studies the face instead, taking in the deep freckling across Jaebum’s nose and the marks over one of his eyes, a menagerie of mismatched silver jewelry everywhere there’s ear available. 

His hair is black, the fringe of it hanging low over his eyes so that Jinyoung even wonders about the practicality – it’s greasy, lightly gnarled into dozens of loose twists. Jinyoung wonders idly how long it’s been since it was washed out. 

But there’s still something compelling about his features, sun-bronzed and slightly oily, a handsome jaw and a voice that’s lazily lyrical even in his attempts to intimidate.

How did Jinyoung and this man find their fates intertwined?

“Oh it's a cakewalk for me, until your Navy finds us,” Jaebum says, knuckles white as they brush against Jinyoung’s throat. “They’ll arrest me without asking for a murmur of explanation. Jooheon might as well not even exist in this instance, nor Jackson. The person who  _ hangs _ is me, and you sail back home to your lifestyle of velvet and pearls.”

Jinyoung frowns. “If that’s what helps you sleep, knowing I'm down here, Captain.”

Jaebum yanks on the ribbon again, but instead of crushing Jinyoung closer to him, the knot unravels and it whips out of his collar. Jaebum steps back with a soft curse, and Jinyoung has already scrambled deeper back into the cell, returning to his little heap of blanket and cloak. 

Kunta meows loudly then, done with his meal. The cat scoops up what’s left of the carcass and deposits it on Jaebum’s boot before coolly slinking off into shadows.

Jaebum shoves his hands in his pockets, grimacing down at the mess on his boot, before kicking it away. “You’ll clean the hold tomorrow,” he says, flustered. “We’re a few days out from Anduçal still, so you may as well make yourself useful.” 

With this, he turns on a heel and leaves Jinyoung alone again.

Jinyoung stares dully into the dark of the hold once more, wondering how bright the stars must look from on deck.

 

//

 

“Clean the entire _hold?”_ Youngjae repeats in shock the next morning, when he brings Jinyoung a bowl of hot porridge and the prince inquires about cleaning supplies. 

Youngjae peers down the length of the room. Although divided in some specific areas for stores, ropes and such, it runs all the way from bow to stern. While the _ Nora II _ is a smaller ship intended for speed, Youngjae looks taken aback by the scale.

“Let’s just have you help me and Yugyeom split up clearing off the deck,” Youngjae suggests cheerfully. “Then you can get some fresh air!”

Moments later, Jinyoung is swabbing gratefully, holding back a smile as he watches Youngjae do a dance with his own mop.

Yugyeom watches them disapprovingly, muttering and shaking his head.

“What crab has settled up your ass?” Youngjae wonders, swabbing a circle around him.

“You know Jaebum hyung will be upset about this,” says Yugyeom lowly, glancing nervously at the door to the captain’s quarters. “He’s trying to break the prisoner’s spirit, not give him a joyride.”

Jinyoung slides by him silently, but keeps within earshot, surprised by the familiar way he speaks about the captain.

“We finished cleaning the hold only last week,” says Youngjae, focusing in and scrubbing hard at a tough spot of dried salt. He doesn’t notice Yugyeom straightening up and clearing his throat.

“I don’t see any reason our routine need be upended,” Youngjae continues, “just because someone’s keen to look tough.”

He careens around suddenly into Jaebum’s broad chest, lets out a little noise of fright.

“Who’s trying to look tough?” Jaebum asks, frowning past Youngjae to where Jinyoung is struggling to push some seaweed off the starboard side of the deck. 

“Er,” says Youngjae. “Yugyeom,” he lies.

Yugyeom shakes his mop at him threateningly from behind Jaebum’s back.

“We don’t need the hold cleaned?” Jaebum asks.

Youngjae shakes his head. “Not right now,” he says. “We weren’t particularly productive while you two were on that island. So we did quite a bit of busywork.”

Jinyoung draws nearer then, looks up from under his lashes to observe how Jaebum will react to the younger’s words. Why had the captain been away, he wonders. He supposes Jooheon and Jackson held more sway over him than he’d previously indicated. Jinyoung still couldn’t quite ascertain who was really in charge around here.

Jaebum just nods, agreeing with the deck boy, and Jinyoung’s mind reels a bit. 

“Maybe we just have him replace Yugyeom, entirely?” Youngjae jokes.

Yugyeom hits the back of Youngjae’s knees with his mop and the boy collapses, laughing. “I’m your superior officer,” Yugyeom insists, reaching down to flick Youngjae’s ear.

Jaebum still looks deep in thought, and Jinyoung watches as he draws an old compass out of his pocket, flicking the case open. Jinyoung can’t see the detail from this distance, but the needle looks broken, unsteadily spinning despite Jaebum’s consistent position.

Jaebum snaps it shut, still frowning, and his eyes flicker up to lock with Jinyoung’s. “I’ll find something,” Jaebum assures them, hurrying off deck as his coat billows out behind him. 

Yugyeom helps Youngjae to his feet, and they return to their busywork.

“How old are you two?” Jinyoung wonders, still curious about rankings.

“Seventeen,” Yugyeom says pluckily.

_ “Seventeen?” _ Jinyoung yelps. “That's my baby brother’s age.” He shifts his eyes to Youngjae suspiciously. “What are you, _ nine?” _

Youngjae chuckles, tipping his bucket’s dirty water overboard. He does look young, his loosely-tied blouse too large for his frame, sun in his light hair. “I’m twenty,” he says. 

“Aren’t you both a little young to be pirates?” Jinyoung asks out loud, feeling comfortable enough to inquire. “I’ve always pictured such grizzled types, with the beards and missing limbs.”

“I don’t know if you can be too old or too young,” Yugyeom says. “As long as you can, you make yourself useful. I’d be second-in-command if Jackson wasn’t hovering around.”

Youngjae laughs loudly. “You know it’ll never happen, Yugyeom. Jaebum’s never had a first mate or a quartermaster and he won’t even if Jackson leaves.”

“You don't understand. We bonded on that island,” says Yugyeom, too seriously.

_ “Oh, gross  _ – please spare me the details! _ ” _ Youngjae exclaims, sticking a tongue out, and even Jinyoung covers a smile with his hand.

“Not—there's nothing  _ gross, _ you pervert,” whines Yugyeom. “Jackson’s twisted your mind already, hasn’t he?”

Youngjae shakes his head and laughs but Jinyoung spies pink in his cheeks. “I’m not the one bragging about  _ bonding _ over here.”

“He gets very handsy with you, I've seen it,” Yugyeom says slyly, gliding his mop past them with narrowed eyes.

“Jackson seems like he’d get handsy with an old pig if it could get him what he wanted,” Jinyoung says casually, eyes on what he’s scrubbing.

The other two are silent for long enough that he looks up curiously only to find them staring at him in surprise. Worried he’s said something wrong, he anxiously puts a hand to his neck to fiddle with his ribbon, but he’s startled by it being missing. He’d already forgotten Jaebum yanked it off of him.

The boys burst into laughter though, and Jinyoung feels a rush of relief at their joyful faces, Yugyeom even clapping in delight.

 

//

 

In the evening, Jaebum decides to give Jinyoung a tour of the ship, mumbling something about remaining useful. But he makes sure the prince’s hands are tied. 

_ (“Hyung,” Youngjae had said to him, as they watched Yugyeom rope Jinyoung’s wrists together. “Respectfully, do you really think the prince is going to rob us and swim home if his hands are untied?” _

_ “It’s the principle of the thing,” Yugyeom had answered, pulling the knot tight. Jaebum had nodded stiffly, even as Youngjae’s eyes had pleaded for reason.) _

It wasn’t a large ship, nor a particularly new one. There were plenty of areas in need of repairs or refinishing, and as Jinyoung had already assessed, not much of real value. 

There’s a small kitchen with what looks like entirely too many hanging sausages and little else, a crowded crew quarters with only a dozen or so hammocks, and several crew members that Jaebum breezes past without even introducing.

“Who was that?” Jinyoung wonders, glancing back at a fellow with a shaved head who had started waving and was visibly disappointed when they barrelled past.

“I don’t know,” says Jaebum.

Jinyoung frowns at him, slowing his pace as they continue through the middle level. “You don’t  _ know _ a member of your crew?” He repeats.

Jaebum huffs, stopping at the hatch to the hold, only to find Jinyoung far behind. “When Jooheon and Jackson took over, it wasn’t  _ my crew _ anymore,” he says, waiting for him to catch up. “It was theirs. So a lot of the people I knew and trusted were replaced. Only a few remained.” He clambers down into the hold with a sour face.

“Don’t you think you should work on building up a better crew? Or at least, getting to know these fellows,” Jinyoung wonders, following Jaebum down, cautious and awkward thanks to his tied hands. The captain waits at the base of the ladder, scowling across at Jinyoung through the rungs once they’re level.

“Thank you for the political advice, your majesty,” he says crisply. “Reappointing my own crew is, in fact, on my agenda. But its priority has been pushed back, thanks to a pesky prince I’m going to be hung for kidnapping, accidentally.”

Jinyoung blinks, face remaining infuriatingly blank. “I see,” he says lowly.

Jaebum’s face brightens abruptly then, spotting his favorite ship cat across from Jinyoung’s cell – a slinky little seal point with bright blue eyes. “Ah,” he says, voice going soft and tugging Jinyoung over. “You saw Kunta, but have you met our Nora yet?”

“I thought the ship’s name was Nora,” Jinyoung mumbles, but he kneels down and extends his tied, long-fingered hands for the cat to inspect and accepts a few dainty sniffs. They both eye each other at a respectful distance. It's like they're both royalty, Jaebum muses.

“She's  _ Nora II,” _ Jaebum says, pluckily. “This one’s the original.”

Jinyoung squints at him with pure, unbridled condescension as he straightens back up. “You must not know any other names...” he coos, voice dripping with pity. “Isn't that rather tragic.”

“And, look at that, you've lost walkabout privileges,” Jaebum says with a huff, yanking him by a velvety elbow. “Back to your quarters, you go.” He guides him roughly back toward the holding cell.

“There are  _ so many _ names,” Jinyoung is nearly singing with laughter, eyes shining. “There must be literally thousands of women’s names in the world.”

Jaebum locks the door with a flourish, keys clanking riotously. “Someone will be by with your dinner later, your _ highness.” _

_ “Clarice,”  _ Jinyoung is laughing fully even as Jaebum heads back up, “Jihyo. Esmeralda—!”

The hatch slams shut behind him. 

 

//

 

_ Avanth, the morning before; _

“It was right  _ here!”  _ Namjoon insists, ducking around the fishery stall and back out in a panic. “There was a pile — of empty barrels, and trunks, and I promised we’d be back for him!”

BamBam stares at the empty docks around them as his stomach sinks. “Somebody  _ took _ the trunk?” He squeaks. “Somebody  _ took _ my brother?”

Jungkook and his group of friends are just as dismayed, confused and full of empty frustration.

“Namjoon,” murmurs Jin, turning to look out at the ocean horizon. “You lost a fucking prince.”

“Maybe,” Jimin says, “or maybe one of the market stall owners just cleaned up. We should ask around first.”

“Can we send word to Suga and J-Hope now? Or even Yugyeom?” Jungkook asks, putting a supportive arm around BamBam, who looks like he might pass out. “At least they'd know where to start.”

Namjoon sighs, pinching his nose and cursing softly. “Even if we’re sure the Cranks took him, they could have passed him off to someone else by the time the  _ Bulletproof  _ catches up to one of their ships.”

“Namjoon lost a fucking prince,” Jin repeats, turning around and looking even more shocked the second time he says it.

_ “Pirates,”  _ BamBam whispers. “Those pirates have my brother?”

Jungkook tightens his grip around his shoulders. “It seems likely,” he confirms.

“What am I supposed to tell my mother and father?” BamBam asks, in a daze. “They think Jinyoung’s still just sleeping off a hangover.”

“We could try,  _ not _ telling the king?” Namjoon offers, voice wavering slightly.

“No,” Jungkook says firmly. “You should tell him – he’ll find out if they name a ransom anyhow – but you can assure him: you know  _ better _ pirates.”

 

//


	3. Rub a Dub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Things are still moving slowly, but I think you'll at least be pleased this story is finally starting to live up to its rating, bit by bit. Please let me know what you think!

_ At sea; _

It's been two and a half days and Anduçal has finally appeared like a glimmer of green hope on the horizon. Jinyoung had never visited by way of sea before, only familiar with the journey over land and by ferry. That way was shorter, albeit bumpier on horseback. But Jinyoung couldn’t help but become fond of the sensation of sailing in his short time aboard the _ Nora II. _

He’d been on small, vacationing catamarans and some paddle boats, but he’d never felt this motion of unfettered speed. While swabbing atop the forecastle, he found himself taking a little extra time: leaning forward and watching the bow cut through the water like a knife, mists running damp through his hair.

Jinyoung had never seen sunlight constantly evolving in its dance across the water like this, bright and blinding in the day, pink and lovely at dusk. At least not so vividly, so broadly, everywhere he looked.

There was something remarkable about being on the water, Jinyoung realized, something that felt belittling and empowering all at once. You were a mere speck, racing along by the will of the sea and the wind – but you were free.

“We’ll probably dock by midnight and could even be off to find your duke in the morning,” Youngjae says at his elbow, startling Jinyoung out of his thoughts.

“Should we have a signal, or a code or something?” Youngjae continues, humming absently.

“For what?” Jinyoung asks, dumping his wastewater clumsily, nearly losing the bucket over the rail.

“Keep it closer to the deck and pour between the posts, it’s easier to handle.” Youngjae instructs, dipping his from low as an example. “And I mean, for if we reveal you to the duke. Yugyeom was saying something about a blindfold. So maybe if I squawk like Coco, you’ll know he’s not really that handsome, so you shouldn’t bother.”

“What would you suggest I do,” Jinyoung indulges him, leaning against the railing and trying not to laugh. “If I don’t want to be sold by my kidnappers, to an ugly duke?”

“Knee the captain in the nuts and head for the hills,” Youngjae titters.

Jinyoung lets himself laugh along with him, the fantasy a bright spot in his muddied, uncertain future.

“Youngjae-yah,” says a voice. “Where's the tub?”

Jinyoung nearly squeaks as he bites off his laugh, never prepared for Jaebum's silent approach. He hastily tries to look busy with his bucket, turning away and pretending to pour more overboard.

“The big one?” Youngjae says with a hum, “I think Jooheon used it last, so it should be in your quarters?”

“Have it taken down to the hold, and ask...” Jaebum’s voice hesitates. “In the kitchen, ask—?”

“Peniel,” Jinyoung suggests quietly, over his shoulder. Youngjae had given him a rundown of the crew members Jaebum hadn’t yet become acquainted with, and Jinyoung made particular note to cozy up to them if he had the chance.

“Ask  _ Peniel _ to heat up enough water for a bath,” Jaebum says lowly, after a pause.

Jinyoung stays quiet and still, hearing a set of footsteps fade away.

He’s turning back around to beam at Youngjae once more, but his smile slips away as it’s Jaebum who’s left facing him. The captain yanks the empty bucket out of his hand and tosses it aside.

It goes stuttering across the deck, and Jinyoung thinks his heartbeat may match it in volume. 

Jaebum leans in, far too close. “You certainly seem to be getting  _ comfortable _ here,” he says. 

Jinyoung can’t quite bring himself to meet his gaze, flustered by the proximity and his stern tone of voice. Jinyoung isn’t used to being scolded. Instead, his eyes find Jaebum’s lips, close and quite pink, Cupid’s bow dramatically arched.  

When Jinyoung finally raises his eyes, Jaebum’s have softened, brows wrinkled in what looks like confusion. 

The heat of their shared breath must be what makes Jinyoung’s cheeks flush, he thinks to himself dizzily. But then he sees Jaebum’s eyes drop to his own lips in turn, and Jinyoung feels the heat spread to his chest, and a strange, sudden sense of urgency.

“Hyung?” Youngjae calls out, and something shatters. Jinyoung spins away from the captain, pressing the back of his hand to his burning cheeks.

“Is this the tub you mean?” Youngjae asks, and Jinyoung is already fleeing, racing back down to the hold before he can be assigned another menial task.

He scrambles back to his uncomfortable blanket, never before as eager to hide away in his cell. Just  _ what  _ had that been? Why did nobody on board seem to possess any sense of personal space? And why had staring at Jaebum’s lips made his heart beat so inexplicably fast?

Jinyoung was admittedly rather inexperienced.

He had never intended to be prissy, or cold. But being raised in the castle, his interactions with people were always kept at a distance. In retrospect, Jinyoung felt like he barely knew the people he considered closest: Minhyuk at court, and even his own brother.

These people all had intimate sides to their lives, something privately enriching. Of course, when pieced together with their public selves, it fit them well. 

Remembering Minhyuk’s mischievous eyes and boisterous, flirtatious personality, Jinyoung found himself less and less surprised by the rumor of his secret love affair with the blacksmith. Minhyuk would let love literally carry him away.

And BamBam, sneaking out to drink and gossip with the locals, had already learned what their constituents really cared about. He would become a very precious leader in time.

Jinyoung settles back, hand over a disquieted heart, and prays he’ll find more strength should his boundaries be tested again.

 

//

 

An hour later, Jaebum finishes pouring another pot of hot water into the tub, stirs it with his hand. “You're going to wash me,” he says gruffly, even as the tops of his cheekbones color slightly. 

The torchlight in the hold is dim, flames sputtering slightly, so it’s hard to see. But Jinyoung’s flush is worse, even as he scoffs. 

Jaebum yanks the laces loose on his own top, eyeing him brazenly as his fingers make quick work of it.

“Is this supposed to humiliate me?” Jinyoung finally asks. “Break my spirit or some nonsense?”

“Absolutely,” says Jaebum. “And if your burning ears are any indication, it looks like it's working.” He’s yanking his long undershirt up out of his pants, and Jinyoung visibly snaps, looking away in an instant and then seemingly having to force himself to turn back.

Jaebum wonders if the prince has ever seen another man naked before. If he were anything but royalty Jaebum wouldn't doubt it, but when you have servants who dress you, you're probably not a regular at the public bathhouse.

Jaebum drops his breeches, left just in his long shirt, and he relishes the abrupt, visible hitch in Jinyoung's chest, the way he can audibly discern the shudder in his breath. His shirt still hangs to the tops of his thighs, but by common standards of decency, he's undressed.

Jaebum walks slowly to the edge of the tub, retrieving a cloth he's draped over the side. Jinyoung darts his eyes away.

“For scrubbing,” Jaebum tosses the cloth at him and gestures to a pile of towels and bottles. “There’s some soap and oils here, as well.”

“Don't commoners usually just sponge off?” Jinyoung murmurs crankily, slinging the towel over his shoulder and attempting to hike up his jacket’s stiff, brocade sleeves.

“You may as well undress,” Jaebum points out, finally slipping off his shirt and stepping into the tub slowly. “Those are your only clothes, and it won't be particularly comfortable down here, at night, in sopping wet velvet.”

Jaebum settles heavily, letting out a slow groan, knees peeking out of the water.

Jinyoung's eyes flutter away in alarm, but he stays silent, and Jaebum really does admire his stubborn streak. If Jaebum were in his position, he might have upended the tub and been tossed overboard by now. But Prince Jinyoung sees the value in restraint, sees strength in keeping his cool, and Jaebum can respect that. And he might even get a good bath out of it.

“How common do you think I am?” Jaebum wonders, as Jinyoung heaves an irritated sigh and shimmies out of his perfectly tailored jacket. “I’m a captain, after all. That’s still a title with some weight, pirate or not.” 

After some hesitation Jinyoung manages to hang his garment carefully from the latch of his cell door, and then plucks slowly at the shimmering buttons on his waistcoat. 

Jaebum takes lazy note of how slim he really is, beneath all the thick velvet. Jinyoung’s form is leaner than his, and Jaebum imagines softer too. Not that Jaebum imagines it often.

But now, he can spy some of it, as Jinyoung rolls his finely knit stockings down and off his calves. They must be silk, Jaebum figures, as their finish still shines despite a little grime and some stains from swabbing duty. But the stockings are still no match for Jinyoung’s legs, pearly white and well defined, untouchable like moonlight on water as he precariously slips each one out of his breeches.

And then Jinyoung’s left in just his simple undershirt. And while Jaebum is certain it costs more than his, it still brings Jinyoung down a level. White, long-sleeve, hanging down to his thighs – just like any other man’s.

Jaebum doesn’t consider royalty as much more than being born with some money, and the title to some land. But Jinyoung carries himself like he’s from another realm of existence entirely. Maybe heaven, Jaebum thinks, admiring the tension in his thigh, the pinkness of his knees.

Seeing him standing still, looking lost, in nothing but his hairy legs and some thin cotton – it grounds Jinyoung in reality. In dirt, in sin, like the rest of humanity. And here, in the amber of the torchlight, warm water rocking gently around Jaebum’s body, Jaebum thinks about how he could really make him mortal.

“Don’t let my water go cold,” Jaebum presses.

Jinyoung is nearly pouting, lips pursed tight, but he wiggles them back into the perfect blank face. Again, Jaebum punches down the swelling admiration in his chest, watching the prince kneel stiffly beside the steaming tub.

He wets the cloth and rubs a bar of soap across it, building a lather. Jaebum is surprised he still hasn’t made a sound of protest.

When Jinyoung finally moves to his side, swiping the cloth coarsely across his shoulder, Jaebum watches his eyes the entire time. Jinyoung keeps his gaze locked tight and emotionless on wherever his hand goes. Neither ahead nor behind. 

But once Jinyoung’s finished scrubbing an arm, he finally lets himself lapse, eyes dipping down Jaebum’s chest, and he jerkily withdraws the cloth to rinse and apply more soap. Jaebum watches his face flush again, and he realizes what Jinyoung’s seen.

“It’s perfectly safe to wash,” Jaebum says, leaning back slightly. The torchlight glints a bit off the small silver ring, pierced through his right nipple. 

Jinyoung looks dizzy with questions, but gives a small nod. Jaebum can feel the tremble in his hand as he drags the towel down the slope of his chest.

Jaebum reaches up abruptly then, gripping Jinyoung's slender wrist in place.  _ “Gently,  _ mind.” He murmurs, and there's a very satisfying flutter that he can feel in Jinyoung’s pulse point. 

Jinyoung lets out a breathy noise that borders on a whine, and Jaebum realizes his hold is too tight. He lets the hand drop with a splash. 

Bathwater soaks into most of Jinyoung's sleeve, which is unwinding easily from his hasty attempt at rolling. Jinyoung lets out a dismayed sigh, traces his hand over the cuff and tries to ruck it up higher.

“You can take it off,” Jaebum reminds him, slowly. “You don't have any extras to change into and it'll never dry down here with all the damp.”

Jinyoung grimaces, shoving his sleeve farther up to his shoulder, and then moving back to resume scrubbing Jaebum's chest. He makes firm circles but is quick and delicate around Jaebum's piercing. 

Jaebum tries not to look too smug, or too eager, as Jinyoung's undershirt gets damper, and all the more sheer. But Jinyoung diligently continues.

“Lean forward, please,” Jinyoung grits out, moving behind him and pressing a single finger between Jaebum's shoulder blades.

Jaebum rolls his eyes but moves as directed, leaning so Jinyoung can sweep the cloth down his back. “I’m just trying to be helpful,” he says softly.

“Helpful!” Jinyoung snaps, yanking his shoulders back and moving to the other side of the tub in a huff.  He grips the next arm with his fingernails.  _ “Helpful _ would be providing me with another set of clothes, as even prisoners are often provided,” he says, scrubbing viciously now.  _ “Helpful _ would even be not tasking me with bathing your sunburnt, oily body.”

“You haven’t applied any oils as yet,” Jaebum interrupts to points at the bottles he’s provided, purposely ignoring Jinyoung’s tone. “I like the coconut, but—!”

“Or you  _ might _ say!” Jinyoung continues, and his hand dives into the water to yank Jaebum’s ankle into the air so he can lather the length of his leg. Jaebum slips a bit in the small basin and shuts his mouth as he regains his composure. 

“You might say you were  _ helpful _ were you providing me a bed, a hammock, any corner of the ship  _ other _ than this damp storeroom, where I am kept as an animal in a cage when I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing but guarantee you heaps of riches upon my ransom.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath as his scrubbing slows. “We both know you’re not being helpful. Which is expected, as my captor. But please do not play frivolous games in an attempt to shame me further. If you want me naked, I can be rid of my clothes by the edge of your blade or the barrel of your gun.”

And without blinking, Jaebum has reached out of the tub and drawn a dagger, and he points it between Prince Jinyoung’s eyes. Jinyoung looks up, letting Jaebum’s leg slide back into the water with one long breath.

“So let’s have you naked, then,” Jaebum orders, and his eyes are so dark in this dimly lit space, Jinyoung feels like his breath has been punched out of him.

Jinyoung’s face flushes, wobbling as he stands. Jaebum keeps the dagger out, but his grip is loose. 

_ “Really?” _ Jinyoung asks, and Jaebum has to will himself not to smile. It’s a sweet, sincere whine of disbelief, so genuinely spoken Jaebum almost forgets he’s royalty. Surely Jinyoung has to realize how rough a kidnapping could get. The  _ Peach Blossom _ Prince, Jaebum thinks derisively, must know how dangerous men can be. In comparison, isn't this minor?

But if he’s actually frustrated with Jaebum, he must believe some good remains. 

Jaebum wants him to reconsider.

Begrudgingly, Jinyoung unties the top, fingers dragging the cord through their eyelets at a tortuous rate. Then he's hiking his shirt over his shoulders, and it's so raw and unrehearsed, so ungraceful, Jaebum feels a twinge of shame.

But his embarrassment is quickly, hotly submerged in lewd curiosity, as his knees knock farther apart in the tub, framing his view of Jinyoung's naked body.

And maybe, just maybe it's a little better than he'd imagined. Because of course he’d imagined it, had imagined all of the ways Jinyoung was different from him, from beginning to end, head to toe.

And Jaebum watches, eyes shameless, how Jinyoung's soft pink cock bobs between his legs — stronger legs than Jaebum had imagined, toned thighs that looked like they could smother him — as Jinyoung is suddenly clambering into the tub with him.

“What are you… doing?” Jaebum wonders, suddenly just as flustered, chest splotching red with embarrassment. A wave of water slips out of the tub, as Jinyoung's body fits neatly between his legs, far too close but not quite touching.

Jinyoung balances forward on his knees, bent over so easy, and Jaebum can't tear his eyes away from his mouth — slightly open, what would it feel like — and the prince pours a bucket of water over his head.

There’s a clatter as Jaebum drops the dagger in shock and Jinyoung the bucket. Was he so busy being a pervert he hadn’t even noticed Jinyoung preparing to douse him?

Jaebum sputters indignantly, running a hand over his face and slapping his dripping locks out of the way. “What  _ in hell _ do you think you’re doing?” He gasps, unscrewing his eyes to find Jinyoung lathering up some foam in his hands. He leans forward again and starts to work it into Jaebum’s hair.

Jinyoung isn’t rough, but he doesn’t fuss, gripping into Jaebum’s wet hair and working his fingers through each twisted segment and unraveling them one by one.

“Don’t,” Jaebum almost whines, moving to slap Jinyoung’s hands away, but he gives in soon to the coaxing drag of fingernails over his scalp, eyes slipping shut as it starts to feel good.

It’s relaxing with his eyes shut, just the sound of their breathing and the gentle splashing of water.

“You don’t intimidate with these,” Jinyoung says, voice pitched low. “If you’re going to bargain with kings and dukes, and try to piece together a better crew, you ought to look like you've got something to offer. Like you’re already wealthy.”

Jaebum keeps his eyes closed, letting Jinyoung’s voice melt over him, as the prince has his way with his hair.

“And if my father hangs you,” Jinyoung whispers, sounding so much closer, breath hot against Jaebum's earlobe. Jaebum can picture his lips in his mind: thick, dark pink like bruised petals. “Do you want your corpse to be mocked by the local children? Or do you want to die already a spectre — haunting them, with the steel in your eyes seen clearly?”

Jaebum’s lips part slightly, a soft breath escaping. His hands move slowly, like he's underwater, until they settle blindly on Jinyoung's slim, slick hips. 

The movement of them matches the rhythm of Jinyoung's fingers through his hair, nudging soft and circular. It's so easy to lose focus, as the water undulates around them, warmth stirring in Jaebum's groin, his cock coming to life as Jinyoung’s thighs brush with his own.

And Jaebum is certain he feels it, is certain the prince can sense his arousal. Because Jinyoung makes a sound then, just the wet snap of saliva as his mouth falls open, and Jaebum’s fingers dig into his skin with nails now, tugging him closer.

Jinyoung directs his head to tilt back, and Jaebum breathes shakily but lets him, baring his throat as the prince rinses the soap out of his hair, silken and soft under the water.

Jaebum doesn't realize how vulnerable he's become until he's opening his eyes again, feeling how hot and utterly pliant he is under Jinyoung's ministrations. He stares up as Jinyoung looks down at him, face slack and fingers gentle, softly wringing his hair clean. 

And it's exhilarating, Jaebum realizes, to be put at ease. He'd slept with a dagger in his boot since before he could read — on edge and on the outskirts his whole life.

“There,” Jinyoung says, voice airy and delicate, trembling as they both shift up again. “Isn't that better?” He brushes the long, dark strands out of Jaebum's eyes and Jaebum can barely breathe.

But there’s a stamp of boots then, and Jaebum startles out of his reverie. He peers around Jinyoung’s shoulder to find Jackson stepping off the ladder, eyes blown wide in shock.

Jaebum's brain seizes for a moment, as he realizes Jackson can see so much of Jinyoung — still bent lewdly with his bottom in the air — and the thought feels sour, shameful. Nevermind he demanded it, nevermind he's the only one to blame. He feels the guilt overwhelm him now, and he only considers how to cover him.

Jaebum crushes Jinyoung into him without quite thinking it through, and tips forward. Jinyoung chokes out a half of a yelp, as their bare bodies slide against each other, and Jaebum presses him into the water. 

Jinyoung, wrested onto his back in the basin, looks up with naked alarm, face pink and mouth agape. Jaebum finds it hard to tear his eyes away, the image already seared into his memory, but he draws back and clambers out of the tub as soon as he can muster.

Standing, he tightly wraps a towel around himself, praying his stirring cock will go down quickly.

“Captain,” says Jackson, swaggering forward and eying his form appreciatively. “I suppose I should apologize for interrupting?”

“What’s the problem?” Jaebum barks, placing himself between Jackson and the tub.

“Nothing has gone wrong,” Jackson grins, putting his hands up. “I only came down to inform you we’ve made port in Anduçal. How’s our… captive doing?”

They both glance back, seeing Jinyoung has remained slunk down into the basin as far as possible, a tuft of his hair barely visible over the edge.

“I figured Mark and his cohorts would appreciate my bathing if we intrude upon them,” Jaebum says, suddenly embarrassed by the situation he devised. “And I also thought it might be… character-building for the prince to assist me.”

Jackson pointedly redirects his gaze down to Jaebum’s flagging erection, and lifts his eyebrows. “It doesn’t seem like you've finished,” he pronounces.

Jaebum tightens his grip on his towel, and shoves Jackson back toward the ladder. “Spend some time getting word out with the locals,” he advises. “We want the duke to feel challenged, but don’t make mention of the prince. If we get an audience, we’ll try to make a deal.”

“You’re in luck,” Jackson says, snickering but starting back up to the hatch. “I have quite a bit of experience hanging out around the docks.”

Jaebum watches him leave before turning back to look at Jinyoung, who’s sat up and started to slowly wash himself in the remaining bathwater. Jaebum watches his hands delicately slip up the curve of his own arms, sees a fraction of his profile as he scrubs a shoulder. Jinyoung's expression is perfectly blank once more, the picture of royal composure.

Jaebum can't help but compare it to the flushed, overwhelmed face he'd seen as he straddled him a moment ago, and his stomach twists. Which was the genuine Jinyoung? 

And Jaebum realizes in that moment he’d already forgotten: Jinyoung is a politician. An icon. A figurehead to be seen, not touched, and never, ever be himself.

Jaebum grits his teeth and storms back to his quarters, too flustered to collect his things.

 

//

 

_ Anduçal; _

Jinyoung hears no word has returned from the duke, when Youngjae fetches him the next morning.

Jinyoung is conflicted. There’s the disappointment of not getting a chance to petition the duke, and the sympathy that were Jinyoung in his position, he wouldn’t bother to reply to every random ruffian’s vague threatening.

“It’s like a dream outside,” Youngjae says, unlocking his cell. “Leave that stuffy coat.”

Jinyoung hesitates, touching a hand to his side. He abruptly turns away for a moment, trying to inconspicuously shift the dagger Jaebum had left behind to fit into his waistcoat.

“You got something?” Youngjae asks. “Do you want a holster to hide it under your arm? I think I’ve got a spare.”

Jinyoung peers back over his shoulder with wide eyes, surprised by his reaction.

_ “What?”  _ Youngjae teases, nudging him aside. “It’s not a bad idea to be prepared, while we’re out and about in town. Trouble tends to find us.”

“I don’t think I need anything else,” Jinyoung assures him, turning around stiffly, and Youngjae pokes him in the side. Jinyoung gasps slightly as it presses the edge of the blade threateningly against his abdomen.

“Maybe you could just try it on,” Youngjae suggests, and watches as Jinyoung slips the dagger out reluctantly. Youngjae’s eyebrows fly high. 

“Isn’t this Jaebum hyung’s?” He murmurs, reaching out and touching the distinctly engraved pommel rather reverently. “How’d you get this?”

Jinyoung swallows quickly, not wanting to get into details. “He left it,” he says. “Last night, he forgot some of his effects.” He gestures vaguely at the pile he’s folded, Jaebum’s undershirt, breeches, and boots.

Youngjae’s eyebrows nearly disappear into his bangs now, hand scratching absently at his head in confusion. “I guess he’ll be needing some of those,” he murmurs, crouching and bundling it.

They're halfway to the ladder when Youngjae nearly hiccups in alarm and spins abruptly around. 

“Wait,” Youngjae says, slowly. “The captain... was  _ naked _ when he left?”

“In a towel. He took a bath,” Jinyoung says crisply, gesturing at the emptied basin. 

“You watched him  _ bathing?” _ Youngjae asks.

“He asked me—,” Jinyoung bites his lip and gives an irritated huff. “He  _ ordered _ me to wash him.”

Youngjae stares blankly for a moment, until his face absolutely crumples with laughter, cheeks flushed.  _ “Unbelievable!” _ He exclaims. “Wow, I had no idea Jaebum hyung was such a predator. Is he going to have you moved into his quarters or something next?”

Jinyoung pouts at him, swatting the younger boy’s shoulder. “It was really strange,” he says. “Do most of your prisoners have to do things like that?”

Youngjae’s face straightens as he clears his throat and seems to consider it. “Well, the captain doesn't usually take prisoners at all,” he admits. “So I think he's about as familiar with it as you. That's why he's looking for strange, petty tasks. I figure he wants to seem  _ intimidating,  _ but I don't think he really knows what to do with you. Beyond the fact that we just sort of,  _ desperately  _ need some money for once.”

Jinyoung doesn't care to romanticize his captors, but he can't help but feel a little pinch of sympathy.

“Did he try to seduce you?” Youngjae asks, looking confused. “What was the point?” 

Jinyoung shrugs, heat prickling at the back of his neck as he recalls it. “I think he just wanted to humiliate me,” he says, and then pauses. “Does he typically… take female companions? He didn't seem much more comfortable than myself.”

Youngjae shrugs, eyes wide. “I've never seen him  _ take anyone,” _ he admits. “Jackson flirts with him, but again, Jackson flirts with everything.”

Youngjae hums, looking down at the captain’s clothing in his grip. “He must have been  _ so awkward,”  _ he chuckles again, but his cheeks go pink and he glances up at the hatch as if to check they're truly alone. 

Youngjae leans in conspiratorially. “Is he… big?” He whispers.

Jinyoung's eyes nearly cross, laughing despite his embarrassment, and he turns away to hide a burning face with both hands. He mumbles something into them quietly.

“What was that?” Youngjae giggles, “I can't hear you, hyung—!”

They both sober then, Jinyoung turning to silently blink at him in surprise.

“Er, your  _ highness,  _ I mean,” Youngjae stammers, looking more embarrassed than he had been a moment ago, lewdly gossiping.

“It's fine,” Jinyoung whispers, “I’m already starting to miss hearing that.”

“Well, let’s get moving,” Youngjae says, “Jackson wants to get to the Parlours right away, of course, and somewhere on this boat I've got to find a very blustery, barefoot captain.”

They start up the ladder but Youngjae stills abruptly, halfway. _ “Wait,”  _ he whispers. “Did you say he was big or small?? I'm not letting you out of here until you tell.”

Jinyoung reaches up and spanks him hard on the bottom, and Youngjae yelps and scurries out of his reach, his laughter ringing throughout the ship.

 

//

 

The Parlours is one of Anduçal’s oldest and quite highly respected bordellos, a sprawling complex of faded pastel villas that looks crammed into the coast’s cliffs.

The hike is a bit steep, but the path is well-traveled and cuts confidently into the mountainside. Paper lanterns and old windchimes are strung between posts along the edge, and they sway and sing merrily in the breeze.

Jaebum leads them, pretending to focus on the views, but he keeps his ears keenly fixed to his crew’s conversation.

“Youngjae-yah, you didn’t want to come with me last time,” Jackson is saying in a syrupy, teasing tone. “Weren’t you scared of Mark?”

Yugyeom cackles beside them, never more delighted than when his shipmates manage to look sillier than him.

“He just makes me nervous,” Youngjae says, uncharacteristically quiet. “He’s really handsome, is all. And I’m not used to places like this.”

“You haven’t spent a lot of time in brothels?” Jackson wonders. “They’re a staple where I’m from. If only for the best tea.”

Youngjae snorts, but doesn’t reply. There’s a long pause in conversation then, Jaebum absently counting everyone’s footsteps.

“What about you, your highness?” Jackson wonders. “Did you have a favorite brothel in Avanth? Or maybe you had your own personal  _ harem _ in the castle?”

Jaebum glances back over his shoulder at Jinyoung, suddenly eager to see his reaction. But the prince doesn’t look offended. His face is blank again, a carefully composed cage.

“No,” says Jinyoung simply, and his eyes lift to meet Jaebum’s. Jaebum feels his heart catch in his throat as Jinyoung squints slightly, his expression unreadable. Jaebum turns back to the road and swallows heavily. They haven’t spoken since the night before, and Jaebum isn’t sure what exactly has shifted between them and how.

His hasty attempt at intimidation doesn't seem to have broken Jinyoung’s spirit, and now Jaebum keeps replaying the moments of quiet, hot intimacy in his mind.

That night, he'd crashed into his bed, still half-hard and imagining Jinyoung’s flushed, panting face, the wet feeling of his body pressed all along his own. Jaebum had spied the ribbon he’d yanked from the prince’s collar, looped lazily over a corner of his desk. In an instant, his shame had melted away, and he’d wrapped the silk around his cock and pounded into its sleek embrace. 

Eyes shut tight, gasping, it was Jinyoung’s face he pictured again and again, mouth open, lips thick, and a throat he imagined felt like satin. He’d come with his hips bowing high, jism dribbling over the fabric and his fingers.

Now, Jaebum runs his hands through his hair with a little puff of frustration. Even his longer, relaxed bangs serve to remind him of the bath, and his memories cycle viciously for the remainder of their walk.

The main parlour has an unassuming entrance despite its naturally grandiose setting; a low stoop and a set of red double doors propped open and layers of sheer, beckoning curtains that waft in the wind. Jaebum can smell the perfume, incense and candle smoke before they make it to the porch, and then Jackson’s pressing past him to yank at a cord. 

Inside, a bell tinkles quietly, and their mismatched crowd waits. 

After a pause, one of the curtains shifts and Mark steps fluidly between them, eyes curious but face impassive. But his long, handsome nose quickly crinkles with a bright smile as he darts forward, eyes creasing. His free hand goes straight to Jackson’s chest, fingers dragging down his sternum.

_ “Hello, _ sailor,” Mark whispers. But his lips twitch with a barely restrained giggle, and then Jackson’s grin looks like it could split his face open, and they embrace with laughter, stumbling a bit from the force of it and disappearing beyond the curtains. 

Jaebum glances at Yugyeom and finds him looking equally uncomfortable as the rest of them remain awkwardly close together on the stoop, wondering if they should follow.

But a moment later, Mark reemerges and ushers them all in. “Stop uglying up my porch, please,” he says with a smirk, and the curtains sigh shut behind them.

 

//


	4. Keeping Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me some trouble, structurally, so I'm sorry if things seem chopped up a little. I did in fact chop up a lot. We get into a little Markson here – and actually a little... Youngmarkson? Is that a ship name? – but it's nothing graphic. That may be a cut scene for later, if you're interested. Let me know all your wonderful thoughts, as always!

_ Avanth, two days earlier; _

King Park had never before held court with pirates. He’d had pirates hung, after they’d been tried separately, but he’d never had them announced in his own hall, never seen them bow stiffly and make conversation. But the circumstances were markedly unique, and so quite a crowd was assembling before him. 

BamBam, the younger prince, had led a group of commoners into the hall by hand, and behind them had trailed a selection of uncouth looking… thugs, as far as King Park could tell.

“The intrepid crew of _the_ _Bulletproof_ assure me that not only do they know how to track down the Cranks and locate Prince Jinyoung,” Bambam says now, solemnly gesturing at the disparate group, “but they can do it in half the time of our Royal Navy. And I intend to join them.”

King Park lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he avoids his wife’s eyes.

Several courtiers assembled on the opposite end of the room titter and burst into whispers, but the queen herself quiets them with a single, pointed glare.

“And if something happens  _ to you?” _ The queen pleads with her son. “What are we supposed to do? What if we should lose one son and then another, and be left heirless, our kingdom broken?”

“Nothing will happen,” BamBam insists. “They've never even lost a crewmember,” he says, gesturing back at the pirates. 

The short captain, introduced as Suga, clears his throat and tries to angle his wooden leg and a smile out of view. J-Hope, the first mate who wears an eyepatch, laughs outright, but waves off the king and queen’s glares and sobers quickly. “It's true,” he offers, bowing.

Their assurances and motley missing parts don't seem to sway BamBam’s mother, who crosses her arms and seems to dig herself deeper into her throne.

“You will not step foot on a pirate ship,” she insists.

“But who will help them find Jinyoung hyung?” BamBam whines. “They've never seen him.”

“Jungkook,” the king barks, beckoning at the valet, who sheepishly steps forward and bows. “You know our eldest prince nearly as well as our BamBam. You can sail and direct your… colleagues.”

“There's no reason for my Bam to go at all!” The queen agrees.

BamBam stares at the marble tile of the great hall in a stony silence for a moment. Everyone in the room eyes him nervously, wondering if he'll accept. The young prince isn't known for tantrums per se, but he's been rumored to flex his skills in negotiation.

BamBam kneels low before his mother. He lays his hands open, palms up, and presses his forehead into the floor in the traditional posture of a beggar. A soft gasp ripples through the crowd. The position is not strictly inappropriate, but its performance is highly unusual for Avanthian nobles, and perhaps never seen among royalty.

“It was  _ my _ fault he was outside the castle,” says BamBam, voice trembling. “It was  _ my _ fault we didn’t take any guards. And it was my fault he was  _ kidnapped.  _ Please let me make things right. How can I be an effective ruler, if I cannot accept responsibility?”

Silence weighs heavy in the hall, thick like a blanket over everyone.

King Park risks a glance at his wife, and she’s surprisingly grim, eyes downcast. She lifts her face then, looking at him desperately, tears brimming.

“Then the Navy will sail immediately behind  _ the Bulletproof,”  _ King Park booms, and snaps aside to where several of his officers await command. “In her fastest ship. The–whichever one is our fastest.”

“That would be  _ the Winn _ , your majesty,” Admiral Lee steps forward, a slender man with an extravagant hat.

“Ah, Seunghoon, of course,” the King addresses him warmly. “You’ve carried my treasures before, but this is unlike any other. My son will sail with your crew, behind  _ the Bulletproof _ by a day.” 

BamBam pouts slightly as he gets to his feet. “I’ll miss all the rough stuff,” he mumbles.

“Exactly!” King Park bellows. “And then your mother will receive you back home, in  _ one piece,” _ he says, narrowing his eyes at the pegleg captain, who merely rasps out a chuckle. 

“Oh, my baby is going to be a little admiral,” the queen sniffles, reaching out to squeeze BamBam’s hand. He still pouts a bit, but he leans into the touch and looks down at her softly.

“Just to be clear,” interrupts the admiral sternly. “This does not make him an admiral, by any means.”

“Oh come on, Lee Seunghoon-ssi,” BamBam cajoles. “May I at least try on your hat? I bet you say I’d make a fine admiral, in that.”

“Absolutely not,” says Seunghoon.

“Admiral,” the king says quietly.

“Absolutely not… without dusting it off a bit first,” Seunghoon amends, taking it off to halfheartedly brush at the decorative feathers, before handing it over.

BamBam plops it on and dashes to an enormous mirror on the opposite wall, examining himself from all angles. Jungkook and Taehyung, another crewmember, flock to his side to adjust the hat’s angle and enormous plumage.

Jungkook hums thoughtfully. “And here I thought this hat was ugly,” he says.

“A hat is all about a face,” Taehyung says, squeezing BamBam’s cheeks together.

_ “My _ hat is actually about  _ being _ an  _ admiral,”  _ Seunghoon says, prickly.

“Will I get some sort of badge, as well?” BamBam wonders, turning back. 

“Our medals are typically merit-based,” the king says, holding back a smile. “So we shall discuss it only upon receipt of your brother.”

 

//

 

_ Anduçal, at present; _

It doesn’t take long for them to get comfortable. Apart from the usual invitations of a brothel, the companions at the Parlours were well-versed in music and dance, and their tavern offerings went beyond the traditional Anduçese tea service.

The younger men are drinking quite a bit – Youngjae glassy-eyed and giggly, Yugyeom loudly singing along with folks songs he doesn’t know. 

Prince Jinyoung has turned down every proffered cup, face alert and jaw tight. 

Jaebum doesn't drink, and he doesn't care much for the atmosphere around it. He had been too nervous about losing control when he had been on his own. And even now, among men he trusts, who would want to look like such a fool? 

Youngjae is laughing so hard at something he flops sideways, and Jackson is there to scoop him up in an arm, peering around to catch his eyes and wink before whispering something into his ear. Youngjae looks like he’s melting, cheeks red and eyes disappearing with his wide smile.

Mark kneels beside them and refills their cups with a strangely satisfied smile.

Something twists in Jaebum’s chest, and he turns away from them with a small frown. Alcohol  _ is _ particularly sly at bringing people closer. And while he doesn’t wish for closeness, he does envy how easily types like Jackson and Youngjae manage to fit in, with characters of all sorts.

For Jaebum, it still feels difficult to endear himself to people, and he doubts alcohol would do much to change it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Jinyoung finally downing a shot and grimacing as he swallows. He wonders, despite himself, what would the prince be like drunk?

Another glance at Youngjae, and he’s slipping his fingers into the laces of Jackson's shirt and yanking them out playfully.

Jaebum thinks reluctantly, immediately, of Jinyoung untying his own top and turns back to find his gaze fixed on him already. And Jaebum’s thoughts come tumbling, unbidden and myriad, of what he has and hasn't seen. Jinyoung’s cheeks have a little heat in them, and whether it’s from the soju or the atmosphere, Jaebum can’t tell. But Jinyoung holds his gaze.

Jaebum clears his throat and tears his eyes away, getting to his feet abruptly. 

“Mark,” he says, voice thick. “Let’s talk business.”

Jinyoung wilts, the fire in his eyes quickly extinguished, and they both watch as Mark unlocks an adjacent room with a tasseled key.

Mark waves them in, and Jaebum watches Jinyoung unfold himself, delicate and unsure. He passes in front of him and Jaebum regrets not tying his hands, mind suddenly racing with how open and sprawling the Parlours compound really is. As Jinyoung follows Mark and disappears behind another set of curtains, Jaebum’s breath hitches. 

He has a strange, sudden vision — the prince sinking deep into wave after wave of organdy, ducking through doorways and slipping away from him. Jaebum stumbles after in alarm, stretching his hand out, and his fingers rake desperately through the sheer drapery. But they nudge into place as he emerges, clamping around Jinyoung’s taut, warm nape, and he scruffs him towards himself like a cat.

In Mark’s chambers, Jinyoung had merely stood still, silent and compliant for his captor in an unknown place. 

Flustered, Jaebum stubbornly guides him forward, maneuvering them uncertainly together to collapse into a pair of cushions opposite Mark. Jaebum yanks his hand back a moment later, fingers burning like he’s done something foolish.

Mark watches them silently, stretching out on his chaise. Silk drops off his shoulder like liquid, unfurling to the floor. He wears a long, embellished robe with gilded embroidery, and it keeps slipping off a shoulder. It’s tied loosely, and beneath it, a sheer blouse doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Mark is beautiful, and stubborn. Jaebum doesn’t know much else about the prostitute, except during the handful of nights he’d spent in Anduçal with Jackson & Jooheon, the Parlours had provided welcome respite for the whole crew. Above and beyond, Mark had helped them launder money, offered old clothing and makeup for disguises, and logged them as aliases in his bookkeeping to avoid any hangups with the proprietor.

Jaebum had never met the owner himself, but Jackson had alluded to him as the devil – called the Red Reaper by the townspeople and some of the companions. Jaebum was particularly suspicious about his ties to the Cranks, who were active in the region yet seemed to keep their distance from the Parlours.

Anduçal had many a whorehouse, and many a tavern. There was plenty of opportunity for Cranks to wreak a little extra havoc, but the old bordello carved into the hillside somehow evaded it. 

And Mark — beautiful, stubborn Mark — seemed to be indebted to the Reaper. Jaebum couldn’t figure out another explanation for how meek he became when the name was mentioned. He would never utter a word of complaint, even while teasing his patrons and strictly managing the other companions. 

Mark’s only other loyalty seemed to be tied to Jackson, though Jaebum hadn’t yet quite discerned their history. But it was for Jackson’s sake he’d helped them so many times in the past, and he’d made it quite clear.

“Would we get a monthly cut if he stayed on as a companion?” Jaebum asks, nodding his head at Jinyoung. “Jackson implied it might be possible.”

Mark's lips purse as he stares at Jinyoung in silence for another long moment. “So… you were a prince?” He asks, ignoring Jaebum.

Jinyoung looks more terrified in this place than he had in his cell, more unsure than he had at the point of Jaebum's dagger. And the past tense of his title makes him look physically queasy.

“I was,” Jinyoung whispers, and Jaebum watches him curiously, wondering if this is the first time he's considered it past.

“What do you think I was,” Mark asks, voice teasing like laughter. His free hand tinkers with a silver filigree pomander, hung low around his long neck. “Before?”

Jinyoung's eyes light up, as if there's hope, a speck of sympathy in the idea. “Noble, too?” Jinyoung asks.

“No,” Mark smiles. “I was practically born a whore. Bred bitter and begging a mile from this brothel. And now I might  _ own _ you.”

Jaebum wants to roll his eyes. Mark can come across cruel, laying it on thick to seem intimidating. It’s part of his defenses as acting manager. But they've known him long enough to see through it. 

Jinyoung does not have the experience, however, and Jaebum startles as he turns to find the prince's eyes shining with sudden tears.

He shoots a stern glance back at Mark, who’s sat up in surprise. He's pushing up off the chaise and dropping before Jinyoung's feet.

He softly curls a finger along Jinyoung's jaw, tilts his chin up. Their beautiful faces are very close. Jaebum's gut twists, and he’s not sure if it's jealousy or simple arousal.

Mark wears a slightly warmer smile. “I’m not about to hurt you,” he assures Jinyoung. “I know the job very well, and that can only be good for you.”

He drags a thumb along Jinyoung's lower lip, rubs a circle into the plush of it. 

Jaebum leans forward, barely managing to stop himself from reaching out to interrupt. He doesn’t want to appear too invested, but this pinprick of heat in his temples feels foreign. He hadn’t expected Mark to take their suggestion so seriously.

Mark hums, still examining Jinyoung's pliant lips. “You'd be  _ very _ expensive,” he says, and turns both their faces to look at Jaebum, cheek-to-cheek. “Cap couldn't afford you.”

“And how does Jackson afford  _ you _ ?” Jaebum asks, curtly.

Mark releases Jinyoung and laughs loud and natural, his breathy voice abandoned for the giddiness of a young man. “Friendly discount,” Mark says, settling on the floor, arm over Jinyoung's knee.

“I've known him much longer than you.” Mark continues, face gone soft and fond with nostalgia. “Almost my whole life.”

“From before?” Jaebum asks.

Mark glances at Jinyoung, who looks calmer, but still lost. “Listen,” says Mark, smile fading. “There isn’t a before. It’s always worse to think like that.”

Jaebum frowns at this, unsure how to respond.

As if on cue, Jackson bounds into the room, a blushing, stammering Youngjae clutched under his arm.

“Our Youngjae admitted he’s a virgin!” Jackson crows. “We’ve got to treat him to one of your best!”

There's a pause as Jaebum’s mind catches up with the implication, surprised as Youngjae typically seems content with merely watching the song and dance on previous trips.

But while Youngjae seems embarrassed by Jackson's boisterous proclamations, his eyes linger, shyly dark, on Mark’s face.

“Who's paying?” Mark asks, but his smile is broad and toothy as he leans back and sprawls out a bit under Youngjae’s gaze.

“I can, of course,” says Jackson, loosening his grip but letting his hand stroke up and down the length of Youngjae's arm.

“Hyung, you really don't  _ have to—!” _ The younger man laughs nervously.

“Well then, the very best it is,” Mark says, and a beat passes as Youngjae tilts his head in question. 

Mark stands and moves further back into his bedchambers, beckoning.

“You two must excuse me, paying customers _ come first, _ ” Mark says to Jaebum, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I can board the prince and address the details in the morning, if need be.” 

Jaebum wonders if Mark can tell he isn’t actually keen on selling the prince off. 

“Mark,” says Jackson, voice shifting and hand stilling on Youngjae's wrist. “What about my deposit on the books? It was supposed to be our night.”

Jinyoung is standing up, face nearly purple with embarrassment, and is obviously trying to leave the room as quickly as possible. But Jaebum takes his time getting to his feet, unabashedly nosy.

“What's the issue,” Mark sighs out, voice velvet and almost innocent. “You think I can't entertain both of you at once?”

Youngjae's jaw drops, and he flounders in Jackson's grip for a moment, looking like he might try and flee once and for all.

“It's been a while,” Jackson says agreeably, and he smiles softly at Youngjae, even as his eyes look voracious. But he lets go of him, stepping aside for a moment, as if physically clearing the way for his own decision.

Jinyoung hides his face, attempting to scuttle between them sideways like a nervous little crab, and Jaebum follows him reluctantly.

As they leave, he hears Youngjae hum softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he says, voice drawn out like honey.

 

//

 

Hours later, Jackson props himself up on an elbow, skin glowing with sweat. Mark reaches out and idly traces a finger over the swell of his bicep.

“Did I _ tell you _ about them?” Jackson asks abruptly.  “I walked in on them bathing together,” he explains. “I didn’t know Jaebum was so hot-blooded. Even his cats play hard-to-get with him.”

“The prince doesn't seem very experienced,” says Mark. “And I’m sure he’s overwhelmed. But I wouldn't be surprised if he's still a virgin – royalty can be a cage.”

“Does a virgin go for more around here?” Jackson wonders. “How much would we get?”

Mark's face ices over, and he sits up stiffly. “Is that what you really want? For the Reaper to make more than he already does? To own another person’s soul?”

“I want your debt paid,” Jackson says, voice deep and sober. “And your freedom bought. Just as I've always wanted.”

“And then what?” Mark asks, sounding tired.

“And then you can sail away with me!” Jackson exclaims. “We can go anywhere in the  _ world. _ We don’t even have to sail. We can stay  _ here, _ if you want. Or we can go into the mountains, and grow tea, so it tastes just the way you like.”

Mark sniffs a laugh, but his smile is narrow, pursed.

“And then, you own me instead,” he says lowly.

_ “What?”  _ Jackson asks.

“What difference does it make?” Mark snaps. “If you  _ buy _ me, then I’m obligated to stay with  _ you. _ What is the difference? There's always just another pimp, or another John. Rich men only know how to own, and poor men only know how to steal.” 

“I wouldn’t own you,” whispers Jackson.

“This debt is my _ father’s,” _ Mark says. “The least I can do is honor his memory by working it off on my own – respectably.” 

“That Reaper bastard isn’t respectable. He’s  _ never _ going to let you go,” Jackson hisses, gesturing toward the back of the building, where the proprietor’s library remains off limits for bookkeeping. “He never planned to, and you know it.”

“And neither will you,” Mark says. “You told me so.”

Jackson’s face flushes in frustration, neck tight as he sits up. “I never meant it like  _ that!”  _ He says. “I just—I told you I’d never let go when we were  _ children. _ It was innocent.”

“We aren't children anymore,” Mark murmurs.

“But you're still my home,” Jackson says. “Since  _ before _ he snatched you up. Since you used to crawl up into my bunk.”

“It'll only be another nine years,” says Mark. “Then everything will be set right.”

“I don't want to wait  _ nine years  _ to see you out of here. To see sunlight in your hair again, to see you smile the way I remember.” Jackson says, desperately.

Mark turns away, looking down at where Youngjae lays strewn diagonally across the bedroll, still snoring. “Then you should find someone else,” Mark says. “This one seems sweet.” He strokes the hair out of the younger man’s face, blinking stubbornly.

Jackson stays quiet now as his own chest aches, for the first moment feeling envious as he watches Mark drawing a sheet up over Youngjae’s shoulders.

“Find someone  _ else?” _ Jackson repeats, frustration crumbling as he sees Mark’s face so unusually soft, and just watches for a moment. 

“He  _ is _ sweet,” Jackson agrees, after the pause. “But you are my family, no matter what happens. And if that means, when I get you out of here, you want to leave me? Then you should. You should do whatever you want. Run away with Youngjae _ all to yourself,  _ if you’d like.”

Mark turns his head, staring at him from over a lean, pale shoulder.

“But if you think you can get me to give up, to leave you to slave away for another decade, you don’t know who I am,” Jackson growls. 

He crowds closer to Mark then, eyes dark as he kisses up the steep slope of his shoulder, a hand slipping down around his bottom. “Did this boy fuck you  _ that good?” _ He teases. “Did you lose your mind a little bit?”

Mark doesn’t respond, and he doesn't turn around, but he melts into the touch, relaxing even as he lets out a sharp breath as a finger slips inside him.

“Is that really what you want?” Jackson asks, slipping an arm around his waist and tugging him up across his lap, another finger twisting in, as his back settles against Jackson’s chest. “For me to leave you alone?” 

“I don’t want you... to waste your time,” Mark bites out, head lolling back on Jackson’s shoulder, thighs spreading.  

“It’s not a waste,” Jackson says in his ear, and drags his lips down Mark’s long neck as he positions him over his swelling cock. “It’s not a waste to love you.”

Mark doesn’t respond, but he stretches up and turns his face, and Jackson kisses him.

 

//

 

Sometime before dawn, Mark wakes again in a panic.

His hand goes to his bare chest, seizing for a moment before scrambling across the heap of bodies to the floor, to find his discarded pomander on its chain. He gathers it up desperately, burying his face in his palms with it and inhaling slowly.

A moment later, Jackson kneels beside Mark, running a delicate hand through his hair as he steadies his breath.

“You still think you can smell it?” Jackson whispers. “Last time you told me it had gotten better.”

Mark doesn't answer, drawing the perfume away from his nose, cheeks wet with tears.

The brothel had always been heavily cloaked in pleasant aromas — candles and incense burning in every room, sweet smelling floral teas and fresh cut bouquets wherever you looked.

But it wasn't for mere decoration, as Mark had been haunted by the sensation of a phantom, rancid smell since he was a child. 

Jackson knew it wasn't real. But he also knew it wouldn't make a difference if he told Mark no one else could discern an odor, not here and not at the orphanage where they'd grown up.

All of Anduçal still smelled of burning flesh to Mark, ever since he'd seen his home burnt to the ground with his family still inside.

Jackson lets his hand trail down the back of his head, tugs softly at the trailing soft hairs along his nape. “Your family would want you free,” he whispers, and Mark still doesn't respond.

 

//

 

On their way out, Jaebum finds Yugyeom rocking back and forth in the midst of a crowd of giggling dancers, attempting to mimic their sensual choreography. Jinyoung covers his mouth to hide a smile, as Jaebum outright snorts.

“Come on, fancy pants,” he says, yanking Yugyeom by his collar. “I need you to keep an eye on the prince.”

Yugyeom blinks slowly between the two of them, still clearly intoxicated. “He’s right here?” Yugyeom wonders, pointing, and Jinyoung lets out a quiet puff of laughter.

With that, they head back down the mountain trail. Yugyeom hangs heavily on Jinyoung’s shoulder under the guise of manhandling a prisoner, but it’s clear Yugyeom just needs help staying upright.

Back aboard  _ the Nora II,  _ Yugyeom tugs him toward the lower decks, and Jinyoung finally resists, ducking easily out of his grip.

“I’d like to stay on deck a little longer, please,” Jinyoung requests, and Jaebum pauses, turning. “For the fresh air,” Jinyoung says. “I could barely breathe in that place.”

Yugyeom starts to whine a bit, feet dragging with drowsiness. “But I want to go to bed,” he says.

“I’ll take him down later,” Jaebum offers, with an eyeroll. “Try not to smother in your hammock.”

Yugyeom waves off his warning with a drawn out puff of irritation. “Try not to smother in your… actual bed,” he mumbles, and Jaebum makes sure to keep a glare fixed in place until he’s gone. 

The prince has already drifted starboard, arms crossed around himself and leaning into the rigging. He stares out over the bay, eyes fixed on the stars.

Jaebum settles beside him against the rail, hand dipping into his pocket automatically to feel for the comforting worn wood of his old compass. He takes it out and stares down at the familiar engravings for a moment before flicking it open.

They’re still both silent as Jaebum follows the spinning needle with his eyes, until he feels a bit tipsy. He rubs at his eyes in frustration, and when he opens them, he finds Jinyoung peering over curiously.

“Why does it keep spinning?” Jinyoung whispers, taking a step toward him.

“It’s enchanted,” Jaebum explains, angling it towards him. The needle inside wobbles lazily, rolling continuously and only slowing at a low point in Jaebum’s palm.

“You mean: broken?” Jinyoung murmurs, but it’s reluctant, lacking any real malice.

“My mother gave it to me,” Jaebum ignores the barb, glancing out across the dark water. The moonlight dances on the surface, flickering and disappearing with each swell and valley. When he turns back, Jinyoung is looking down at the compass, and the ocean’s sparkle reflects on his face..

“What  _ is _ the enchantment?” Jinyoung asks, finally, and when he blinks up to find Jaebum staring at him, he looks embarrassed. “I mean – wouldn’t a broken compass be more of a curse?” He adds hastily. “What kind of superstitious nonsense was your mother teaching you?”

Jaebum chuckles, amused by Jinyoung’s valiant efforts to maintain his curt tone.  

“I don’t know exactly,” the captain finally admits, turning it over in his hands a few times. “She said it would bring me home, but it’s never pointed anywhere long enough for me to really understand it.”

He opens it once more, and they both stare at it, spinning drunkenly. But then it clicks into place, and Jinyoung startles backward.

Jaebum frowns down at the arrowhead, pointing still. He presses Jinyoung’s shoulder out of its path, scanning across the opposite end of the bay.

But in an instant – the compass clicks and spins again, dizzy and misdirected as ever.

Jaebum sighs in defeat, and they’re both quiet for another moment.

“And your mother,” Jinyoung says gravely, putting his hands together, a fine wrinkle of concentration between his brows. “Was named _ Nora,”  _ he concludes.

“What?” Jaebum snaps the compass shut, tearing his eyes away from the sea to frown at Jinyoung. “No, she was not. Where in hell did you get that idea?”

“Well why else should everything around you be named Nora? Your cat, your boat,” Jinyoung rattles.

“It's a _ ship,”  _ Jaebum murmurs. “And she’s my  _ favorite  _ cat—!”

“Probably your pistol, too.” Jinyoung continues, reaching across to tap the worn handle, holstered away beside Jaebum’s breast.

Jaebum's breath hitches slightly, heart suddenly wedging in his throat as he watches Jinyoung's long, elegant fingers remain, and rub gently. His fingers are slim, nails clean. And the drag of his fingertips looks so smooth against the worn handle. Jaebum thinks of his hands working firmly through his hair.

Jaebum shoves his hand away after watching a moment too long, realizing once again Jinyoung has rendered him incredibly vulnerable. Jinyoung leans away, eyes calculating, and Jaebum watches him suspiciously, noting the way his vest folds and settles.

Deftly, he grabs Jinyoung’s retreating wrist and yanks his arm out once more, dipping into his waistcoat with his other hand and finding a leather holster beneath his arm. 

Jaebum draws back with the weapon, only to find his hand on his own dagger, and he drops Jinyoung’s arm in shock. Eyes wide, he holds it loosely toward the prince in accusation.

Jinyoung looks disappointed, holding his now red wrist to his chest. “I wasn’t going to  _ use _ it on you,” he says glumly, but Jaebum is still too in shock to process the thought. 

He can’t believe he’d let his guard down enough to have left the captive with a weapon. Now that he thinks about it, he hadn’t locked Jinyoung in the cell that night either, and the prince had even overheard they’d arrived in Anduçal. He could have slipped out to the shore.

_ Sloppy,  _ Jaebum chastises himself, and of course he then immediately thinks of stroking himself raw with Jinyoung’s satin ribbon.

With a fluid flick of his wrist, he presses the dagger carefully against Jinyoung's chest, face burning.

“This knife,” Jaebum says lowly. “My favorite. This too has a name.”

_ “Sharp  _ Nora,” Jinyoung suggests mockingly, simply stepping back from the point of the blade with raised eyebrows.

Jaebum huffs, yanking away and sheathing the dagger in his boot. “ _ No _ ,” he says petulantly, murmuring something else into the collar of his coat as he draws back up.

“Pardon?” Jinyoung asks, straining to hear. “What was it, really?”

“Kunta Klaw,” Jaebum says, voice dull as he turns away, anticipating the full barrage of Jinyoung's venomous wit.

Instead, he hears a choking sound, and then a snort, and when he looks back he finds Prince Jinyoung fully laughing.

Jinyoung is covering his smiling mouth with a hand, but Jaebum can see the mirthful glitter of his wrinkled eyes. He looks younger, uncomposed like this. Jaebum wants to tug his wrist away, wants to see the curl of his lips around his teeth.

“You're breaking pirate code,” Jaebum says dryly instead. “You're not allowed to laugh at the captain, this loudly, in front of him. I could walk you off a plank for this.”

Jinyoung seems to laugh even harder, but he turns away at least, pressing his lips shut, and Jaebum watches his whole body shake with quieter giggles instead. He seems to compose himself finally, leaning against the railing and staring out across the waves once again.

“You haven't a plank to spare on this old boat,” Jinyoung says coyly over a shoulder, and the sudden touch of breeze to his hair makes him look like an old carving of a windswept siren. 

Jaebum thinks the image suits him too well — Jinyoung remains almost mythologically tempting.

Jaebum lumbers toward him, even as Jinyoung breaks eye contact, turning away with a touch of blush in his cheek. Or maybe Jaebum imagines it. 

He bends in around Jinyoung's slightly smaller frame, plants his hands on either side of Jinyoung's on the rail.

“Now that,” Jaebum says, voice pitched dark and damp like the night air around them. “That sounds like a very serious accusation. An attempt on my pride. No planks to spare?”

Jinyoung doesn't shiver, but he curls in on himself slightly, hands sliding together and away from Jaebum's. But he keeps his head held high, an ear angled slightly toward Jaebum's voice.

Jaebum takes another step still, his boots sounding louder in the quiet. He finds his hips fitting well to Jinyoung’s, wondering vaguely if he’s the only one affected by their proximity. 

But then he hears the shift in Jinyoung's breath, knows they're both aware of the curve of his bottom as Jaebum finds it with his groin, pressing closer behind him.

“I don't think you'll find me lacking,” Jaebum says into Jinyoung's ear. 

There’s a sharp, sudden explosion behind them, off port side.

Jaebum yanks away, heart hammering as he draws his pistol and scurries across the deck. He peers down at the docks, but there’s no one to be discovered, only a few errant sparks left drifting in the night breeze. Just a flare – meant as a  _ distraction?  _ From what?

An yelp behind him is cut short and Jaebum swivels on a heel, gun raised. A wild-eyed man has appeared over the other side, wrapped an arm around Jinyoung’s neck, and is holding a pistol to his head. His face looks young, features still soft like Yugyeom’s, and Jaebum’s hand wavers slightly as he tries to assess what’s happening.

Jinyoung's hands scramble to try and tug the man's arm away from his neck, but the barrel of the gun presses in, cold and tight to his forehead. Eyes pleading, he lets his hands drop with a soft whimper of surprise.

“Where  _ is he?” _ The intruder demands, “where is that bastard, Jooheon?”

 

//


	5. Topsy Turvy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for your patience as this chapter took me a little longer than usual, so I tried to keep my editing quick. So apologies if it's a little messy. My pacing might fluctuate a little more now that it's summer and everybody wants to do something every weekend – but I hope it won't be too bad. Things are starting to get fun, aren't they? Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading and commenting. Every little "yas!" makes me so sublimely happy.

_At port in Anduçal;_

Jaebum steadies his gun, jaw tight. “This isn't Jooheon’s ship anymore,” he says lowly.

“He promised,” says the young man, but his voice wavers. “He promised he would return.”

“This is _my_ ship,” growls Jaebum. “Drop your weapon.”

“Get Jooheon out here!” The man yells. “Or your little courtesan eats it.”

“I'm not a courtesan,” Jinyoung spits out, and Jaebum wants to curse at him, but Jinyoung’s dark, flashing eyes catch his and the prince jerks his head toward his feet.

Jaebum notes, quickly, how the two of them seem to sway slightly — the intruder may be drunk, or at least, nervous — and they're stumbling a bit amid some coiled ropes by the rigging.

Jaebum looks back up at Jinyoung who seems even more keen to direct his attention downward, but the man holding him shakes him roughly.

“Call for him,” says the man, digging his gun further into Jinyoung’s temple until he squints in discomfort.

“He’s not _here!”_ Jaebum barks, cocking his pistol. If he shoots the man in the shoulder, maybe the impact would make him drop his weapon. But it might also mean he accidentally pulls his trigger, and with the barrel borne up against Jinyoung’s skull like that, it’s too risky to take a shot.

“Jooheon swore–!” The stranger actually hiccups, and Jinyoung takes the opportunity to again flick his jaw toward the deck.

Jaebum finally sees it, the loop of rope marking around the man’s right foot. It’s excess, the slip-knotted end of a length kept taut by a pulley, and it’s a sloppy looking knot, but it might work.

“Drop it,” Jaebum says warningly. “I can tell you where he was headed, but I will not be able to help you if I have to kill you.”

Jinyoung and the other man stare back at him in varying shades of surprise at his tone.

“You’re lying,” the stranger warbles. “Let’s be fair: you want to go back to nuzzling, and I need to speak with Jooheon. It’s–!” And he hiccups again, Jinyoung flinching away from the puff of breath. “It’s an exchange,” he says.

“We weren’t nuzzling,” Jinyoung murmurs, and the man swiftly strikes the butt of his gun across his cheek.

Without a second thought, Jaebum shoots the rigging block, and the rope whistles as it tears upward. The man yelps and pitches forward as it snags around his angle and hoists him up into the air. His pistol goes spinning across the deck, and Jinyoung tumbles in the opposite direction.

The rope snags, and the young man is left hanging pathetically upside down a few feet off the deck.

Jaebum collects the discarded gun and spares another hesitant glance for the man swinging back and forth, before approaching Jinyoung. He kneels beside him, cautiously reaching out to turn up Jinyoung’s cheek and check for an injury. The prince hisses slightly when Jaebum presses his thumb lightly against the scrape. Nothing seems broken, but the skin is red and raw.

Not for the first time, Jaebum feels a hollow, angry guilt in his chest.

Jaebum lets go of his face, and an apology dries out inside his mouth before he can force himself to say it. Frustrated, he stalks over to the drunkard swinging by his foot. The other leg wriggles helplessly in the air, and Jaebum bats it away in irritation.

“What do you want?” Jaebum asks.

“To see Jooheon! He promised he'd return this season and he hasn't.” The man whines, wrinkling a long nose.

“Listen, I’ve been tricked by Jooheon before as well,” Jaebum says. “I know he can be an absolute ass.”

“He is an ass,” the young man blubbers, face red. “But he’s my brother. And I'm tired of waiting for him. I need to sail. You fell for my flashbomb, didn't you? I can make explosives, and I’m a decent shot. Take me to him and I’ll be worth my fare.”

Jaebum has trouble processing all of the information at once, and glances back at Jinyoung, who's straightened up sharply at the word ‘brother.’

“Who _are_ you, really?” Jaebum turns back, frowning. “Jooheon’s never talked about a brother.”

“Changkyun!” the young man says, wriggling. “He’s always tried to hide me – he didn’t want me following him into looting and all that, but I’m sick of it here. He thinks he’s keeping me safe, but he has no idea how crazy it’s gotten. Cranks have come crawling in and are spreading out across the West.”

Jaebum squints at him another moment, wishing he had a gift for clairvoyance. But staring at Changkyun, all he sees is a lost boy, looking for a way out of his circumstances. And it feels unfortunately sincere, and familiar.

Jaebum cuts him down, and then glances back and forth, conflicted, between Changkyun and Jinyoung.

Changkyun is rubbing at his sore ankle, and Jaebum’s disarmed him to a degree. But rigging the explosive and striking Jinyoung across the face makes his desperation clear. And while Jinyoung is more valuable, he's already demonstrated that he's not likely to attempt an escape or a coup. Even the way he’d gently ducked out of Yugyeom’s reach earlier struck Jaebum as almost endearing.

“We’re in Anduçal another day,” Jaebum says. “Jackson was his quartermaster but he’s sailing with us for a time. He’ll have a better idea of where to find Jooheon and when we’ll see him again. If you want to go with us, I can’t afford you milling about freely and blowing things up like a maniac. You’ll have to sleep in the prison cell in the hold, at least until you've proven yourself trustworthy.”

Jaebum doesn’t look at Jinyoung as he says it, but he can sense his sharp, suspicious gaze on him. “That’s all I can offer,” Jaebum says to Changkyun. “If you don’t accept the terms, you can get the hell off my ship.”

Changkyun looks like he regrets his approach, but seems to understand the risk level. “I accept,” he says gruffly. “But as soon as Jackson hyung is back–?”

“I’ll send him to you,” Jaebum assures him.

He motions for Jinyoung to follow and tugs Changkyun down to the holding cell.

Before shutting and locking the door, he tightens his grip on the young man's arm and pivots him around. “First, apologize,” he says, tersely nodding at Jinyoung.

Changkyun looks embarrassed, and he awkwardly bows shallowly to Jinyoung. “I'm sorry,” he says, “I know Captain’s Boy must be a position where your face is highly valued. It _is_ a good face.”

Jaebum and Jinyoung gape at him in matching, incredulous silence for a moment.

 _“Nooo—!”_ Jinyoung moans, turning away in embarrassment.

Jaebum huffs, eyes narrow. “He's not… my boy. He's a prince. We abducted him. Accidentally.”

Changkyun stares at him blankly as a beat passes. “Uh, okay,” he says, skeptically. “That sounds kind of crazy. But sure, I'm sorry?”

Jaebum slams the cell door shut and locks it clumsily, and he and Jinyoung head up through the hatch in stony silence. The middle deck houses the crew’s open quarters, and Jinyoung drifts towards an empty hammock near Yugyeom’s snoring form.

“What are you doing?” Jaebum asks, hand on the next ladder. “You're coming up with me.”

Jinyoung looks over his shoulder at him with eyes that glimmer in silent laughter. “May I at least be informed of the responsibilities expected of a _Captain’s Boy?”_ He teases him, brazen.

“Shut up,” Jaebum snaps. “I still have to keep an eye on you. So you'll stay with me.”

Jinyoung climbs up the ladder first, feet moving quickly. “A boy, in the captain’s quarters,” he hums. “Sounds familiar, but what would you call it?”

Jaebum can barely restrain his sudden, intense urge to spank him and instead follows in sulky silence, with a tight-lipped grimace.

Jinyoung does seem to lose some of his bravado in the dim light of Jaebum’s personal cabin. He hovers by the doorway, eyes darting everywhere as he takes in the scenery.

Jaebum doesn’t keep many personal effects, but the interior is still more intimate, almost cozy, with heavy velvet drapery framing the aft windows. Patches of cloudy moonlight drift throughout, the blue of the night sky contrasting sharply with warm lamplight. There’s a large desk by the windows, strewn with parchment.

His bed is inset into a wall, between two narrow bookcases and hidden partially by a matched curtain, one side tied open and inviting. There are more books crammed into the low drawers of the bedframe, and his sheets are still rumpled from the night before. The smallest ship cat, Odd, a scruffy white runt with mismatched eyes, looks up from one of the pillows.

It’s by no means luxurious, but Jinyoung stares at the little alcove like it’s an oasis and he’s been wandering in the desert for days. Jaebum thinks sourly about the stack of crates in the holding cell and feels his damn moral guilt once again. He gestures at the open curtain in a way he hopes seems casual.

“You’re free to sleep,” he says, turning to settle at his desk and shuffle through parchment purposefully. “I’ll be up a while longer.”

Jinyoung hesitates for just a moment in his peripheral, but then he rushes to the washbasin in the corner and washes his face enthusiastically – another comfort stripped from those kept in the hold. Jaebum hears him hiss slightly as he rinses out the scrape on his face, and Jaebum wonders if it would scar.

But then – what business is it of Jaebum’s, if the prince’s face were marred? His beauty is none of his business. He thinks again of Changkyun’s blasé inference that Jinyoung was a kept boy – an archaic, predatory practice that was more common in Jaebum’s youth.

He had seen his own friends stripped from their families in the islands, boys with voices not yet changed, boys who still found innocent joy in playing hopscotch. And who knows where they’d ended up now. Once more, Jaebum wonders, with a heavy heart, what kind of a man he’s become. Is he really a pirate captain, exploiting and destroying lives like this?

Jaebum tugs his compass out of his pocket, touching the smooth cover. He’s on a path, circular as it may seem for now. He’s figuring it out. He’s no longer stagnant on that island, at least, and Jooheon had left his wayfinding materials exactly as he’d left them, never one to plan out complicated journeys.

Jaebum stares down at the mess of points he’s marked the compass stopping, with little extended rays in the direction the arrowhead had indicated. It’s still a jumble of data, but it seems to be slowly triangulating toward the south, with some exceptions.

This evening, for example, in Anduçal, shooting sharply to the east. Jaebum marks it dutifully.

He looks up then, just in time to see Jinyoung clambering eagerly into bed. His legs are bare, flashing naked in the moonlight as he crawls in toward the wall. The hem of his undershirt barely keeps him decent, but Jaebum still stares helplessly at the crux of his thighs. Jinyoung looks over his shoulder then, finds his hungry eyes, and flicks both of the curtains shut.

Jaebum scoffs to himself, returning to his map. The little arrow he’s just drawn points toward the bed, and he bites his lip, wondering how Jinyoung’s path ended up intertwining so neatly with his own.

It is curious, how easily Jinyoung had seemed to fit into his crew. And tonight, how he’d found Changkyun’s weak point in his footing, and silently communicated with Jaebum. It had felt natural, and if he’d bitten back his last comment – it could have been painless.

Jaebum wonders again if the scrape will scar. There’s a part of him now that hopes it will – that if Jinyoung returns to a life of meek luxury somewhere, he would still carry a symbol of his remarkable spirit. That others might be able to read it as a warning against underestimating the whole sum of Jinyoung’s parts; beautiful, graceful, and ready to dump a bucket of water over the flames of your desire.

 

//

 

“Well this is... a development,” a low voice says, and Jaebum stirs, morning light feeling intensely hot through his eyelids.

Jackson has yanked all of the curtains open in the the captain’s quarters, and he’s nearly humming with energy. Yugyeom is crouched low beside the bed, gripping his knees in excitement as he gapes across the blankets.

Jaebum shifts sorely. He has one leg cranked up to make room for Kunta’s flopped form, and finds Nora snugly burrowed into his armpit. He stretches this arm out as he opens an eye, and finds the soft cotton of Jinyoung’s undershirt. Jaebum startles a bit at this, craning his neck up to find the prince curled up like one of his cats, in a tight ball on his side. Odd is perched like a loaf on the side of his hip, purring loudly.

Jaebum forgets their audience, the warmth of the morning scene easing his nerves immediately, and he lets his head flop back with a little smile.

“I thought Youngjae and I had a pretty adventurous night, but it looks like you and the prince have got us beat with bedfellows. I would never have expected a fivesome?” Jackson asks, scratching Kunta behind an ear. The black cat swats at him without opening his eyes.

Jaebum blinks rapidly, smile slipping away as he sits up straight, remembering his surroundings. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” He asks.

“I think the duke will speak with us,” Jackson says. “His assistant has been asking around for us at the docks.”

“Also, it’s midday,” Yugyeom says, with a little smirk. “So we thought it best to wake you, regardless.”

“Of course it’s understandable,” Jackson waves a hand. “I’m sure Jinyoung must have kept you... _up.”_

Yugyeom giggles at the innuendo, slapping the bedspread in delight.

Jaebum glares at him, shoving his hand away and glancing back at Jinyoung. But the prince still breathes deeply, content in his sleep.

“We _were_ up late,” Jaebum confirms, “we had some urchin climb aboard and threaten us. A young thing, waving his gun around asking for Jooheon. He hit Jinyoung in the face.”

“What?” Yugyeom squawks.

“But we got him calmed down and he’s in the hold for now.” Jaebum says, shifting Kunta aside so he can stretch out both legs. The cat scurries away in annoyance and settles on a windowsill. “Says his name is Changkyun and he’s Jooheon’s little brother. You heard of this, Jackson?”

Jackson looks softly surprised. “I have,” he says quietly. “Not many people know Heonie has family – he’s always tried to keep it a secret. He’d dote on him when he could, used to sneak out of the Parlours to find some time. But he didn’t want him on a ship.”

Jaebum nods. “Changkyun said Anduçal is getting less safe though, lots of Cranks.”

Jackson crosses his arms and frowns. “So he wants us to take him to Jooheon? And you said yes?”

“I said you’d know where he was headed, at least,” Jaebum says. “But I don’t know what else to offer him. If he’s not safe here, Jooheon would want him moved, right? I don’t understand keeping somebody hidden away. If he didn’t want to leave, it’s one thing. But if he’s willing, wouldn’t he rather see him?”

Jackson hums in thought. “I suppose it depends,” he says. “Would you bury your greatest treasure? Or sail with it by your side?”

Jaebum glances at Jinyoung, who’s starting to shift with a quiet sigh.

“I’d want a loved one with me,” Jaebum says, tearing his eyes away. “What is the _worth_ in avoiding someone? They’re not unchanging, like a bag of coin.”

“Very philosophical,” Jackson teases. “But I agree. We can go after Jooheon once we’ve sold the prince. Now let’s not keep the duke waiting.”

 

//

 

They’re greeted moments after they disembark, Jaebum keeping Yugyeom close to his side and Jackson slinking along behind them. Youngjae tugs along the blindfolded prince by his hand.

The assistant to the duke finds them first, a petite figure with sharp, impatient eyes and a satchel overstuffed with what looks like paperwork. He introduces himself brusquely as Kihyun, and immediately starts to scribble notes, eyes flickering over them judgmentally and lingering in curiosity on the figure whose face is obscured.

“The duke won’t be impressed or taken in by any tomfoolery,” Kihyun assures them. “He has an impeccable judgement of character.”

 _“Tomfoolery?”_ Jackson repeats, circling up beside Jaebum and swinging an arm around his neck. “Isn’t that the name of the gentlemen-only tavern over by the mill?”

Kihyun’s cheeks color slightly, but he doesn't reply, just scrawls something else down in his notes with his lips pursed in disapproval.

And then the duke approaches, tall and slender on a well-matched horse, with no apparent security.

Jaebum’s eyes flicker up and down the length of the shore, spying some archers tucked in a grove of trees up the hill. The duke carries a sword, but Jaebum wonders how well he knows how to use it.

He supposes Hyungwon wouldn't appear alone if he didn't trust himself, but the situation puts him on edge.

The duke fluidly dismounts from his horse without saying a word. He wears an ice blue, silken blouse tucked into his leather riding pants, and it billows enviously in the breeze. Around his neck is a matching broad ribbon, tied in a large bow at the back. He reminds Jaebum of someone’s pampered, finicky housecat.

“His grace is inclined to deal with your type quite harshly,” Kihyun continues, but Jaebum keeps his eyes on the duke.

Hyungwon is silent still, idly inspecting a scuff on the toe of his boot.

“Anduçal has much to offer, and pirates _historically_ haven't been very keen on moderation,” Kihyun continues. “We've been burned on deals before, and we’re not looking for more trouble.”

The duke twitches his wide, pouty lips as he looks over them, at their old ship and then back, and gives a lazy little sigh.

“So let’s see,” Hyungwon finally speaks. “What have you got to say?”

“Your excellence,” says Jaebum. “I understand you are soon to be wed.”

Hyungwon’s face barely shifts, and he adjusts his hair calmly, after a breeze ruffles it. “A joyful union with the Prince of Avanth,” he agrees, though Jaebum has never heard the word _‘joyful’_ delivered quite so joylessly.

“What would you say, to _two_ princes?” Jackson asks, releasing Jaebum and stepping forward. Jaebum flusters a bit as he watches him take over, but stays quiet.

Hyungwon purses his mouth into a confused grimace. Kihyun has stopped transcribing, lowering his papers.

“What are you insinuating?” The assistant wonders.

“We’ve heard the eldest prince has gone missing,” Jackson purrs. “A real tragedy, for the Park family. But they won’t want their trade agreement with you to fall through, heaven forbid.”

Hyungwon squints suspiciously, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Luckily, there’s a younger son. Legs up to here,” Jackson gushes, “I’ve heard he’s just as beautiful. And _younger_ , so you know, the stamina might be a bit of an upgrade.”

Jaebum hears Youngjae choke on a laugh and cover it hastily with a cough.

“Cut to the chase,” Kihyun snaps.

“Avanth will obviously offer you sweet, supple BamBam instead. Which would be fine, but do you wonder? What it might be like – if you had both?” Jackson says, stepping closer still.

“Do you know what happened to Prince Jinyoung-ssi?” Hyungwon asks, instead of answering.

 _“Abducted,”_ Jackson says, dramatically solemn. “And then passed around, pirate ship to pirate ship – forced to bathe the men – deeply humiliating.”

Jaebum manages to hold back an eyeroll, even as beside him he hears Yugyeom whispering: _“What?”_

 _“Luckily,”_ Jackson sighs. “We’ve found him.” He snaps his fingers and Youngjae unties the scarf around Jinyoung’s face.

Jinyoung squints a bit at the shift in light, but his face softens then, eyes falling on Hyungwon with an unreadable expression. He looks uncomfortable then, dropping his gaze as if he’s embarrassed to meet him this way.

Jaebum glances back at the duke and sees the discomfort mirrored, Hyungwon’s expression almost apologetic. Something twists in Jaebum’s chest, something tastes bitter in his mouth. They hadn’t calculated for the duke to be decent. He’s going to need a push. Jaebum thinks of the frantic churn he’d felt in his gut as he had stared across at a captured Jinyoung the night before.

“The problem is,” Jaebum cuts in, and he raises his pistol. “We have absolutely no need of him.”

Jackson looks back at him in alarm, as Jaebum is pointing his gun at Jinyoung’s head. Jinyoung stares at him with a frankly offended expression.

But Hyungwon stiffens, even as Kihyun lets out a small gasp.

“Don’t even joke about it,” says the duke, “name your price and put that pistol away.”

“But your grace,” Kihyun says, voice raising slightly. “What position would this put you in? If King Park got word back that you’d _swindled_ him, if he heard you were planning to collect both he and the younger–!”

“I’m not _interested_ in two princes. I'm not even interested in the first one. But am I supposed to let him be murdered in front of me?”

There’s a stretch of silence. Jaebum lowers his weapon slowly, watching as Hyungwon and his assistant trade uneasy glances.

“Do you know why I pursued this trade agreement, with Avanth?” Hyungwon asks Jaebum, after a beat.

“We heard quite a bit about your pearls,” Jaebum says.

Hyungwon scoffs, loosening the ribbon at his neck and turning away for a moment in discomfort. When he looks back up, his face is splattered red with visible frustration.

“Pearls, for Avanth. And for Anduçal? My homeland has been overrun with _pirates,”_ Hyungwon says lowly. “Criminals worse than your type, everywhere you look. They don’t even wait to wager. They just destroy. My constituents live in a constant state of fear. There will be no pearls, no silks, nothing of worth left, unless Avanth can help us build up a stronger military presence.”

Jaebum’s jaw locks tight, neck prickling.

“It's never been about the prince,” Hyungwon continues, “not for me. But he was our best hope.”

“Regardless of his grace’s good intentions,” Kihyun says nervously, voice thin. “The house of Chae have already paid the bride price to Avanth. Anduçal has been blessed with good fortune in the past, but with the exchange already made, and the recent wave of reconstructive costs while Cranks have been tearing apart our main streets, we’re not exactly in a position to _bid.”_

“Five hundred thousand,” names Jackson. Jaebum glances at him with narrow eyes. It’s a steep price, but it wouldn’t be out of the question for the kingdom of Avanth. With Kihyun admitting Anduçal is low on funds however, this seems like they’re overshooting.

Hyungwon looks at Kihyun with a clear question on his face. Kihyun keeps his eyes locked on his sheath of parchments, biting his lip. “Do not think Avanth will rest lightly without their eldest prince,” he finally says, voice strained. Hyungwon turns away, features trembling in an effort to hide his embarrassment.

There’s a tense moment as Jaebum glances back at Jinyoung, who looks seasick.

“I am certain King Park is already hot on your trail, Jackson,” Hyungwon says, finally. “You’re quite a recognizable character, and that won’t work in your favor, trying to sell him without consequence.”

“You don't think you were our only option, do you?” Jackson asks, and then laughs loudly, the boisterous, cheerful sound feeling out of place.

Jaebum eyes him warningly, still certain the brothel would be no place for Jinyoung.

But he keeps silent, watching Jackson wrap his arms around Jinyoung and Youngjae and stroll them away.

Once they’ve moved out of earshot, Jaebum turns back to Hyungwon. Yugyeom lingers awkwardly beside him, looking at him questioningly.

“If we were to return him,” Jaebum says, quietly. “What would happen? Would the marriage really help with stability in this region?”

Hyungwon and Kihyun both look at him in alarm, confused by the offer. “Of course,” says Hyungwon, but Kihyun remains suspicious.

“And how do you expect that to go, pirate?” The assistant raises an eyebrow. “Here you go, King Park, I’m just dropping your beloved back off after a little joyride? He'll behead you without batting an eye.”

“That's not for you to worry about,” Jaebum says brusquely, turning toward town and heading after the others. Yugyeom follows quickly, face pale.

“You don't mean to try it, do you, hyung?” Yugyeom whispers, once they've spotted the others in the village. “It's going to be ten times more dangerous than just _selling_ him, and how will we get any money out of it?”

“I don't know yet,” Jaebum admits. “But don't you feel at all a bit regretful here? This place used to be teeming with merchants, from all over. And now everybody's too afraid to sell.”

And it's true, the street is a shell of what it had been in the past. Taverns were still open and aplenty, drunkards remaining economically dependable til their bitter end, but many farmers had disappeared, leaving dozens of market stalls hauntingly empty.

Yugyeom’s face looks uneasy with the image of it, but he tugs gently at Jaebum’s sleeve, and they pause for a moment, watching as the group heads into a crowded, rustic beer garden.

“Hyung,” he says softly. “Of course I feel the regret, in towns like this. But who will you try to save in the next village? Not every wrong is your responsibility to right.”

Jaebum frowns and tugs away from him, following the others. The sun is disappearing early over the top of the mountains, and dusk is settling in for the afternoon. There are dozens of varying candles melted into every tabletop, flickering dim and soft in the night air. Heavy old lanterns hang low from an arching trellis, and everything seems to sag with exhaustion.

Jaebum dips in close to Jackson’s elbow. “We shouldn’t tarry long. The duke had archers,” he whispers, and Jackson shrugs him off.

“In the treeline,” Jackson says, nodding. “I saw. But they’re not going to risk some harebrained rescue operation when they implied the Avanthian navy is already on its way. And they need every last bit of manpower they have. They’re spread too thin to try anything – have a drink, for god’s sake.”

Jaebum glowers, while Jackson slams two glass steins in front of them.

“To the new prince of the Parlours!” Jackson toasts, and even as Jaebum doesn’t pick up his assigned mug, Jackson crashes his into it cheerfully. The foam sloshes over his fingers, dribbling into Jaebum’s lap, and the captain shifts away in discomfort.

 

//

 

“Be _honest,”_ Yugyeom is crowing. “Have you ever been drunk?”

Jinyoung presses the back of his palm to his forehead, wondering how he’s gotten so warm. Just two mugs of honeyed mead, and the coastal evening breeze is doing nothing for his flushing face.

“Of course,” Jinyoung admits, “At BamBam’s last birth banquet I don’t even remember how I got to bed.”

“But you were with family,” Youngjae points out. “PanPan probably just ordered some servants to tuck you in.”

“It’s _BamBam,"_ Yugyeom corrects him, and Youngjae swats him away. “He just _said it,”_ Yugyeom adds laughingly.

“It’s different getting drunk out here with all us common folk,” Youngjae says. “If this is your last night of freedom you ought to really live it up.”

“That sounds–,” and Jinyoung burps meekly, behind a hand. “Foolish,” he says finally. But his eyes brighten in the next instant, as Jackson slides another round of glasses down the table towards them.

Yugyeom pretends to burp quietly behind a fluttering hand in imitation and Youngjae laughs loudly. They toast each other and Yugyeom shoves a mug closer to Jinyoung with his own.

Jinyoung stares at it with pursed lips and a conflicted frown.

“Or!” Youngjae gasps loudly, and bends in close to Jinyoung’s ear. “You could _seduce the captain_ and _sneak away_ to your freedom once he’s fallen asleep.” He clearly intends to whisper it, but the strained hushing comes out just as loud as his usual speaking voice.

Jaebum and Jackson both turn from the other end of the table, Jaebum rolling his eyes and Jackson outright laughing at him.

Jinyoung doesn’t take notice, fingers settling around the frosty glass in front of him and sighing. “You’re twice as experienced as I am, Youngjae,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I could manage it.”

Youngjae flops his head onto the table in laughter. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he says. “Just a little handjob and he’d pass right out, I’m sure.”

“Youngjae–,” Jaebum growls.

“If you used your mouth, I bet he’d die,” Yugyeom offers.

“Yah!” Jaebum tosses his water at Yugyeom, but the younger man ducks and the water splatters against the garden wall.

“Let’s not encourage our ransom to run away,” Jackson coos. “And let’s certainly not encourage him to murder our dear captain with his sweet, wet, tight mouth.”

“I’m off,” Jaebum declares, knocking Jackson’s mug off the tabletop as he gets to his feet and heads out of the garden in a bluster.

“You don’t have to make such a scene,” Jackson sing-songs at his back, and he flutters his eyelashes apologetically at an irritated barmaid bustling over to clean up. “Sorry for the mess, you know how men are always overcompensating. Not Yugyeom though, have you met him?”

The barmaid rolls her eyes but giggles along as Jackson tugs Yugyeom towards them and makes introductions.

“What did you mean, _twice_ as experienced?” Youngjae whispers to Jinyoung, who’s finally given into temptation, and is sipping at his third mead uncertainly. “Are you really a virgin?”

“Of course,” Jinyoung says into his drink, unembarrassed. “I’ve never had any suitors.”

“There’s been _no one?”_ Youngjae wonders. “I hadn’t done, you know, everything, but I’d fooled around a bit before Mark and Jackson. No palace guards or horse-riding instructors, or anything?”

Jinyoung blushes. “There was a boy from my choral lessons, when I was younger. I used to like one of the instrumentalists – Wonpil. He had a charming smile,” he says.

“Did you two flirt?” Youngjae asks, leaning on a palm. “Did he steal you away for secret kisses?”

Jinyoung dabs at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “I wasn’t really expected to speak to anyone besides my vocal instructor,” he says, cheeks pink as he recalls it. “I just smiled back at him, when I could.”

Youngjae looks sad, now, sipping at his own mug in contemplative silence for a moment. “Are you scared?” He finally asks, gently. “To work at the Parlours?”

Jinyoung takes a long draught of his mead, face less fond. “It just doesn’t feel fair,” he says. “Mark seems quite capable, and I respect anyone doing a job they feel comfortable with, if they’re honest about it. I just didn’t know I’d never have a choice.”

“You didn’t exactly choose Duke Hyungwon, either?” Youngjae points out.

Jinyoung’s frown settles deeper still. “It hadn’t seemed similar before,” he admits. “But now I realize, I’d never had the luxury of seeing any other options, before your crew.”

“You see luxury?” Youngjae asks, and promptly burps. “With us?”

“You and Yugyeom sail freely about,” Jinyoung says, gazing at him sadly. The swinging lanterns and flickering candles cast a golden halo in Youngjae’s hair, and Jinyoung thinks it makes him look like a little drunken cherub. “And you make love to whomever you please.”

“Hyung!” Youngjae laughs, suddenly bashful. “You just saw me have one good night,” he says. “Most of the time we go a bit hungry and a bit crazy. Especially with Jaebum hyung trying to keep us doing the right thing.”

Jinyoung stares down at the bubbles swirling into mysterious symbols in his glass, and recalls the old mystic in Avanth being unable to read his herbs. It makes sense now: he’d never discover how his betrothed was in bed. And Hyungwon had never been interested in him on a personal level, as he’d revealed today. Jinyoung hadn’t romanticized their marriage yet, but he’d held out hope for a relationship growing with time.

Jinyoung figures it must happen in real life sometimes – two people thrown together by circumstance, and after some building of trust, and the discovery of chemistry, maybe there’s a slow blossom of love. He had thought it possible, at least. Now, tipsy in a poor quarter and surrounded by bad influences, Jinyoung wasn’t sure if love would ever be in fate’s cards for him.

“Do you think you’ll be able to charge extra for your first night, at least?” Youngjae asks, and though his question is genuinely innocent, Jinyoung feels his chest burn in frustration. He drinks down the rest of his mead hastily to quell the sensation.

“Can we go back to the ship soon?” He asks, glass clattering empty and hollow against the tabletop. “I’m feeling a bit sick.”

 

//

 

Jaebum has extinguished most of the lamps except for one by his bed, so it’s comfortingly quiet and dark. He’s reading an old novel, one of his favorites, in an attempt to distance himself from his current dilemma. Sometimes, when he needs to think the hardest, Jaebum finds himself rereading something without any relevance at all. It lets him think in the background, while his focus is on something familiar.

It’s not working.

Jaebum’s mind is fixed on what to do with Prince Jinyoung. A young man who doesn’t deserve to be sold into sexual slavery, who if returned to his position, could ostensibly do something of real importance. A young man with parents who miss him – parents that could hang Jaebum without a trial.

And selfishly, secretly: someone Jaebum wishes he knew more about. Someone who’s surprised him at every possible turn of course. Someone worth reading into.

Jaebum tosses his book aside, sighing loudly as he sits up, only to bury his face in his hands. He was certain Jackson would disagree if he were to try and send Jinyoung home. Maybe his crew as well. Was it worth parting with them, if that’s what it takes?

But Jaebum thinks of the only direction he’s been given in life. A broken compass, and his mother’s plain advice. _“Every man sails his_ own _course, on the_ same _sea,”_ she’d said. Jaebum just had to find his.

The door to his quarters creaks open then, and Jaebum looks up, sharp eyes softening as he sees Youngjae helping a wobbly Jinyoung through.

“See you tomorrow,” Youngjae is trying, and failing, to whisper again. _“Or maybe not!”_

He escapes with a giggle as Jinyoung nearly trips trying to swat at him, and the door shudders as it’s shut with drunken, overestimated force.

The prince turns back, too slowly, and stares across at Jaebum with wild, glazed eyes.

“You’re drunk,” Jaebum says, surprised. “That’s not particularly princely, is it.”

“Captain, please,” Jinyoung says, tugging his shoes off too violently and then crossing the room with a determined expression.

“This will all be much easier if you just shut up,” he says, and crawls into Jaebum’s lap.

 

//


	6. Ebb and Flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I think this chapter was uh, well anticipated, so I tried to edit it as quickly as I could. Apologies again if there's anything sloppy. Well, anything sloppier than intended. Enjoy and please let me know what you think~

_ Anduçal port; _

Jaebum doesn't expect it to feel quite so right, quite so easily, when Jinyoung settles into his lap. His thighs fit neatly on either side of Jaebum’s waist, and the pressure of them up against each other feels very, very good. 

Jinyoung scoots deeper against him, and Jaebum groans, hands still gripped into the mattress, steeling his face into an appropriate grimace.

“What are you doing?” Jaebum asks, breathless and trembling.

“Isn't this a good position for me?” Jinyoung murmurs. “Isn't this what you want me sold off for?”

Jaebum says nothing, staring up in alarm, voice lost. Jinyoung has surprised him before, but the prince settling his warm form into Jaebum’s lap is truly a force to be reckoned with.

“I don't want to feel my first man in that bordello,” Jinyoung says hoarsely, and the too-sweet smell of honey and alcohol on his breath fills the space between them. “I want a choice, at least.”

Jaebum lets out a high pitched sniff, that might have been an attempt to choke back a laugh.

“And what kind of a choice am I?” He asks, leaning away. “A pirate whose sole interest is in your price? Who  _ wanted _ to sell you? Who could strangle you if he pleased?”

Jinyoung actually smirks at this, and Jaebum's hands fist tightly into his bedspread to keep from putting his hands on him. He's drunk. This  _ kidnapped prince _ is  _ drunk _ , he keeps reminding himself, and everything about this situation makes him feel like a predator. Like he’s doing something wrong just by looking at Jinyoung in this state.

But it's Jinyoung who grinds down on him, who switches his hips a little clumsily, like he's testing out a saddle. The lack of grace doesn't make much of a difference to Jaebum’s dick, and he can't restrain a grunt as Jinyoung's ass makes a slow, tight circle next.

Even Jinyoung's breath hitches then, and he makes a little noise as he slows down, body moving like liquid. Jaebum thinks again of honey, thinks of sticky hot syrup trickling over his body in a slow, suffocating embrace.

“You're getting hard,” Jinyoung says, voice all smoke, and Jaebum stays silent, trying to keep his face grim. But Jinyoung is right, of course. The slow, steady rhythm of it, the hot pressure of his bottom cradled perfectly in his lap. Jaebum's dick has responded to much, much less.

So they both feel him swell, and Jaebum’s breath stutters as his fingers dig into his bedding.

“Is this what it would be like?” Jinyoung murmurs. “Without the men even looking at me? Touching me?”

“You're drunk,” Jaebum chokes out, even as Jinyoung presses his legs farther apart so he can sink deeper, angles himself between Jaebum’s thighs more and slides his own erection along Jaebum’s.

“I'm not touching you because you don't know what you're doing,” Jaebum says, as clearly as he can, screwing his eyes shut. “And tomorrow you can pretend this didn't happen.” 

Jinyoung lets out a broken, breezy noise, clutching Jaebum's shirt as he bucks his hips and drags himself down hard against the front of Jaebum's pants, and Jaebum tries to choke off a whimper.

“I accept your terms,” Jinyoung sighs out. “Except for the part where you said you wouldn't touch me.” And he reaches down and takes Jaebum’s hands in his, guides them to his chest and rakes them down his sides.

“Please,” Jinyoung pants.  _ “Please.” _ He sounds coherent, he sounds soft. He’s pliant and genuinely willing. He rocks into Jaebum insistently, the clumsy rub of it overwhelming and warm. 

So when he lets go of Jaebum's hands to grip onto his shoulders, Jaebum is still holding on.

Jaebum hums feebly, eyes cracking open as he finally lets his fingers curl into hips he'd been craving. And the rest of his self control melts away, tugging Jinyoung closer as he lifts his own hips, swaying them together.

This elicits a quiet, delicate sound from Jinyoung, and his head rolls back with it, a soft, spittled curse bit off before Jaebum can hear it.

Jaebum steadies them out, cocks gliding against each in a discernible rhythm, and he watches Jinyoung's face contort with the building sensation of it.

“You don't  _ really  _ think it would be like this, do you?” Jaebum murmurs, hips rolling steadily. “You think they'd let you be on top? Riding and setting your own pace?”

Jinyoung doesn't respond, grinding into him slowly still, neck long and smooth before him. Jaebum buries his face there, breathing in the soft scent of sweat and alcohol, as he takes Jinyoung’s ass in his palms and forcefully flips them.

Jinyoung’s back hits the bed loudly, and he stares up at Jaebum all pink-faced and perplexed, just like the night in the tub. Jaebum's heart flutters, but he moves forward, pressing Jinyoung's knees apart.

“They'd  _ plow into you,”  _ Jaebum bites out, faces close. He draws back for a moment before thrusting more forcefully against Jinyoung. Even fully clothed, he feels damp with sweat, muscles hot and drawn tight, trembling already. They rock together, Jaebum fitting neatly between his thighs.

Jinyoung actually whines, eyes shutting and body arching up off the bed with another rough thrust, and they scrabble madly at each other, each trying to outdo the other’s forceful movement. Jinyoung's nails claw into Jaebum’s neck, digging into the breadth of his shoulder muscle. Jaebum savors the sting of it.

“They'd fold you over in two,” Jaebum continues, and with this he snatches an ankle and hikes one of Jinyoung’s legs up against his chest. Jaebum then drives his erection back into him again, hitting him low and bucking up against the length of Jinyoung's cock. The cloth of their breeches is tugging and straining thinly between them, and Jaebum can feel every scalding, pulsing inch of Jinyoung's matching hardness.

“They wouldn't give you any control,” Jaebum says, softer, out of breath. “They'd wreck you each time.”

Jinyoung opens his eyes again, dark and lovely in a sweaty, slack face. “You think, on my back, I lose all control?” He whispers, even as Jaebum continues to hump into him.

Jaebum only grunts, trying not to lose rhythm.

But then Jinyoung curls up, slipping his ankle off Jaebum’s shoulder, and ducks his head to his chest. Jaebum barely has a moment to question, to mourn the switch of position, before Jinyoung's fat, pink lips settle on his right breast. 

And before he can calculate the obvious consequence, he feels it instead: a wet, luscious tongue flicking against his piercing, through the thin cotton of his blouse. Jaebum curses, groaning like he's dying — and maybe he is, cock pulsing as Prince Jinyoung sucks down intent and shameless at his nipple. What a way to die. 

There is a storm of sensation, as they stretch out and Jinyoung continues to writhe a thigh up against him and tries to rock his own heat into Jaebum’s leg. He tugs at the piercing with his teeth, combining the sting of it with suction, and an unearthly flutter of his tongue.

Jaebum moans, over-sensitive and feeling like the power has shifted unfairly. He wants to lay back and cradle Jinyoung’s head to him, wants to let himself spiral out into a sea of bliss. But it’s not about bliss right now, and he can’t back down from the obvious challenge in Jinyoung’s words. 

So he lets his fingers weave into Jinyoung’s hair, soft and silky, and grips it at the root.

Jinyoung cries out as he tugs his face away, and while Jaebum already mourns the loss of his slick lips, he tries to keep focus, tumbling the prince over onto his hands and knees instead.

“Some of them won’t even want to see your face,” he says into Jinyoung’s ear, bent over his back. And he lets his hands wrap around his slim waist, unbuttoning his breeches and yanking them down to his thighs. Jinyoung gasps and scrambles to find his balance but surprisingly, he doesn't protest. 

Jaebum swallows heavily, pausing as he gazes down at each soft, pink swell of naked asscheek where it peeks out from under his long shirt. And then he rucks the shirt up out of the way, slapping down hard and watching his skin bloom red and pink like petals under his hand, flesh rippling hypnotically.

“That’s surprising, right? Such a pretty face,” he says hoarsely, but he's still staring at Jinyoung’s bottom, slipping the pants off completely. Then he digs his nails into Jinyoung’s hip and fits the jut of his cock into the cleft of his bottom. And Jinyoung feels so warm, so soft, even through his pants, Jaebum can’t hold back how his whole body trembles, curling over him.

Jinyoung whimpers as Jaebum presses hard against him, frotting into the heat of it frantically, knees slipping in the sheets. But Jinyoung rocks back against him, willing, feverish with want.

Jaebum creeps a hand back around, fingers dipping over the sharp crest of his hipbone and into the cradle of his pelvis, past his damp, dark curls. And as Jinyoung pants out another  _ please, _ he wraps his hand around Jinyoung’s hot, stiff length. And the prince makes a noise Jaebum’s never quite heard before, the shift of his tone warbling with each slow, tortuous tug.

“Some of your customers wouldn’t even want to remember you’re a boy,” Jaebum says, breath damp at the shell of Jinyoung’s red ear. “They won’t want to touch your cock like this at all.” And he strokes him slowly again, squeezing his palm over the sensitive tip.

Jinyoung cries out, turning to look up at Jaebum with wet, desperate eyes. Jaebum feels own dick twitch at the sight, biting his lips as he tries not to kiss his gaping mouth.

“They might not even let you come,” Jaebum whispers, moving to grip the base tightly, feeling each throb of Jinyoung’s pulse.

“Don’t you want to come, Jinyoung?” He asks, teasing, tasting the way his untitled name drips off his tongue. But Jinyoung grits out a short huff of frustration, and then he’s shoving backward with his legs, strong and taut. Jaebum settles back in surprise, as Jinyoung topples them with his thighs spread out across his lap again, facing forward this time, the hot press of his skin feeling closer than before. 

Jinyoung gives a clench and then releases, and repeats it again and again until Jaebum nearly sees stars. The pulsing pressure on his clothed cock is more intense this way, too hot and too close and he can't believe Jinyoung can move his ass like this.

Jaebum comes. It's nearly destructive in its force — slamming through his body as his hips shudder weak and sloppy up against Jinyoung, gasping with each wave. 

It feels like he’s been shot, a sharp sudden tug of the ground out from under him and then he’s spiralling out into a void of loose, hot ecstasy. And his breeches suddenly feel heavy with wet, scalding jism.

Jinyoung leans back and watches him from his shoulder, eyes shimmering with satisfaction. Then he gathers Jaebum’s slack hand where it had paused around him, with both of his own. Jaebum lets Jinyoung direct him and they jerk him off together, gently, eyes locked on one another’s.

It only takes a few strokes before Jaebum sees Jinyoung unravel, mouth wide in a beautiful, swollen circle and completely silent. His body stiffens, back bowing forward, and Jaebum feels the heat of his come spurting through their intertwined fingers. 

Jaebum keeps his eyes on his face, eager to share each flashing expression of terror and pleasure and awe.

And then Jinyoung’s eyelids droop, and he collapses forward, chest heaving. He rolls over quickly, tugging his shirt down over his flushed bottom. “Thank you,” he mumbles into a sleeve, hiding his face.

Jaebum wonders if it would be insensitive to laugh, watching as Jinyoung retracts so easily, curling into his tight ball for sleep. He steadies his breath, trying to parse what’s happened.

Just like that, with release, it's over, and the prince is moving away from him again. Jaebum thinks, achingly, of the vision he had in  _ the Parlours:  _ of Jinyoung sinking away from him in a sea of sheer curtains.

“Wait,” Jaebum suddenly says gruffly, tugging at the shirt over his hip. “You shouldn't go to sleep in your shirt, when you’re all sticky like this.”

Jinyoung shoves his hand away. “Tired,” he says stubbornly, cheeks pink. Jaebum wonders, incredulously, if he is shy about exposing himself, even after all this.

“You'll regret it,” Jaebum says, “when it dries stiff and you get a nasty case of itch.” He pinches his waist and Jinyoung swats at his hands, actually shushing him.

Jaebum leans back with a huff, and decides it isn't worth the effort, instead standing and shucking his own clothing. He heads to his wash basin and pours out a full bowl of water, taking a moment to rinse off his overheated face. Perhaps in the morning everything will make more sense.

In his grimy looking-glass he sees Jinyoung peeking drowsily over his elbow from behind him. Jaebum turns with a washcloth and brazenly wipes down the softened length of his cock in his direct line of sight.

“You'll itch,” Jaebum repeats, raising his eyebrows threateningly.

Jinyoung is still hiding most of his face, but Jaebum could swear he's sulking.

Jaebum rinses and wrings the rag out once more and turns back. Jinyoung's eyes have shut. Jaebum approaches quietly, tossing the cloth onto the bed.

Jinyoung sniffs in surprise as Jaebum latches onto his ankles and tugs, roughly flopping him over. But he doesn’t resist, limbs limp and heavy with the exhaustion only an orgasm can bring. 

He shivers then, when Jaebum runs the washcloth up a thigh, and drowsily opens his eyes as he gently handles his spent cock.

“A worthy reversal,” Jinyoung murmurs, and Jaebum looks up at him sharply, surprised to find him wearing a sly smile, alert enough to find his wit.  _ “You  _ bathing  _ me.” _

And Jaebum feels his whole face burn, skin humming with embarrassment. When Jinyoung wishes to belittle, he really holds nothing back. He whips the cloth aside, clambering back over the prince with a snarl.

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Jaebum asks, brow furrowed as Jinyoung stretches gently to look up at him, face relaxed and lashes looking heavy.

“We’re the same, now,” Jinyoung breathes out, eyelids drooping, lashes curling enchantingly around his eyes. He brings a hand up, combing gently through a swath of Jaebum's long hair to curl around his jaw. And his fingertips feel like velvet, ghosting over Jaebum’s cheek tenderly.

Jaebum feels his glare slip, and he feels that hollow sense of guilt gnawing at his ribcage again. But he can't help himself, the movement of his own hand nearly unconscious as he mirrors the prince and cradles his face.

Jaebum can't deny the pull, the chemistry taut between them. And he does think, in a daze, maybe Jinyoung believes what he says. Drunk or not, maybe he doesn't mean to degrade him. Perhaps, in another lifetime, they really would be equals.

It's this last thought that drops his head, or maybe it's a soft tug at his chin. Either way, his lips find Jinyoung’s, and they melt into one another. 

Their mouths move slowly, the pillow of Jinyoung's lips just as pliant as Jaebum had imagined, and he takes his time just dragging them back and forth with his own. He sighs into his opening mouth, finding Jinyoung's tongue curling already for his. 

It's slick then, and all he can feel is the warmth of their open mouths, can only hear the soft slap of saliva in the quiet of his cabin. And Jaebum feels, immediately, familiarly, at ease.

But then Jinyoung's hand is slipping, slinking down the angles of his neck and over his chest in a lazy caress. Jaebum feels a hot twist of arousal creep from his gut to his groin again, feels his cock twitch in renewed interest.

Jaebum grunts quietly, suckling Jinyoung's tongue into his own mouth in encouragement, hoping his hand will tickle lower down his belly, but Jinyoung lets out a soft, tired sigh. Then he's slipping away entirely, and as Jaebum blinks his eyes open in surprise, he finds the prince asleep.

Jaebum stares at him in surprise another moment, breath stolen away once again. “Your customers probably wouldn't kiss like that, either,” he finally whispers, sitting back with a frown. 

 

//

 

Jaebum wakes early, on his stomach with an arm flopped out of his bed and a cat on his back shoulder. The snoring sounds like Kunta, but he can't be sure, the rosy light of dawn still a little too soft for him to decipher details in his surroundings.

A beat passes before he becomes aware of the mess in his quarters – his sheets are balled and twisted around his ankles, his drawers are in more of a disarray than usual, some of his spare sets of clothing spilling out of the bedframe.

Then Jaebum’s stomach twists, and he sits up, Kunta skittering off his back abruptly with a meow of disapproval.

His bedding is rumpled, but it’s empty. Jaebum's chest aches, thinking of Youngjae's teasing advice for Jinyoung to sneak out while he slept.

It would certainly be easier this way, he considers, wandering about his cabin as he looks for a clean pair of pants. His head feels cloudy, and combined with the lingering morning haze in the harbor, it’s not helping him sort through his feelings or his belongings. 

He'd stayed up too late, trying and failing again to distract himself with reading, and then he'd turned back to his maps. Tugging a shirt over his head, he looks down at new course he'd marked by moonlight. 

If Avanth had sent ships after them, he reasoned, it’d be best to take the more dangerous, narrow route between the Bheir Islands and the coastline to avoid passing them in open waters. It’s rocky, and more shallow, which meant summer storms would pose more of a hazard. On top of this, the Bheir Islands were a long-time haunt of Cranks, so most merchants and travelers avoided using a channel that boxed them in so easily. 

But it was also the shorter path, a direct route to Jinyoung’s home. Jaebum had just hoped the Navy fleet wouldn’t have the same thought. 

Staring at the marking now, he grits his teeth ruefully. A foolish path, drawn too hasty. He crumples the parchment under shaking fingers.

Fresh air would do him well, he reasons, and he steps out of his quarters, map clenched tight and a sigh already heavy on his lips.

The sound of retching greets him, and he turns in surprise to find Yugyeom patting Jinyoung awkwardly on the back as the prince vomits through the railing.

Jaebum freezes where he stands, mouth falling open.

Jinyoung stumbles away from the edge of the ship, wiping the corner of his mouth with a sleeve that Jaebum suddenly recognizes as his own. 

Prince Jinyoung hadn't run. He's still here, and is wearing Jaebum's clothing. The striped shirt is definitely too broad, the neckline hanging tantalizingly askew. His eyes wobble up to meet Jaebum’s stunned gaze then, and they both seem at a loss for words. 

Jinyoung makes a disgusted face then, and Jaebum feels affronted for just an instant before Jinyoung whirls around and bends over the railing to be sick again. Jaebum lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“We really shouldn’t have let him drink,” Yugyeom says, regretful. “But it was only a couple mugs.”

“It was three,” croaks Youngjae, wobbling up from below deck, Coco perched on his shoulder. The parrot grooms at his hair gently. Jackson follows close behind him, carrying a bucket with a fond smile.

Jackson then glances slyly at the distance between Jaebum and Jinyoung, and Jaebum turns away with an eyeroll, trying not to look concerned.

“Did you two have a memorable last night?” Jackson wonders.

Jaebum remembers the map in his hand, and he looks at it now, attempting to uncrumple the paper as best he can. “Jackson,” he says, ignoring the question. “I’ve set a new course. We should leave immediately, unless we need to stock additional supplies.”

Jackson frowns at him, handing the bucket off to Youngjae, and crosses the deck to snatch the map out of Jaebum’s hands. He puzzles down at it for a moment, a lip curling in disbelief.

“This goes to Avanth,” Jackson says, slowly. “Through the Bheir Shallows. Why are we going back to Avanth?”

“To return their prince,” Jaebum says, turning and gazing at Jinyoung’s back. His shoulders have frozen, hunched over the railing still. But he whirls around at the word  _ prince, _ eyes blown wide, face flushed.

“Wow,” Youngjae looks at him with a slow, impressed smile. “What _did_ _you do_ to Jaebum hyung?”

Jackson lowers the map, unsmiling. “Okay,  _ Captain,” _ he says stiffly. “Just how do you imagine we profit from this plan?”

“We can stage a scenario: Yugyeom can save him from one of us out in public, and bring him home to much applause,” Jaebum says.

“And you think, King Park is such a big fan of our theatrics, he’ll somehow let the villain go free and reward us?” Jackson ask.

“They’ll pretend to drown or something, slip away,” Jaebum says. “The details aren’t important yet – but destabilizing an entire region to sell him into prostitution for some petty cash shouldn’t be on our agenda.”

“It’s not just  _ petty cash!” _ Jackson exclaims. “It’s a living! For Youngjae, and Yugyeom, and your own damn self. We’re  _ pirates, _ Jaebum, not ambassadors of peace. Anduçal should figure out its own problems, and we shouldn’t wander off into dangerous waters for somebody we hardly know.”

Jaebum stares back at him with cold, sharp eyes. “If you are not content with the way I run this ship, you can paddle home to Jooheon’s embrace. If you think you can wrest this ship away from me again, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Jackson is silent for once, head held defiantly high, lips in a thin line.

“The same goes for the rest of you,” Jaebum says, gesturing to the others. “You have a right to provide for yourselves, I accept that. But it’ll have to be elsewhere, if you disagree.”

Youngjae pouts a bit, blinking worriedly at Jinyoung, who’s shrunk where he stands, arms wrapped around himself and looking bewildered.

“I’ll sail with you,” Yugyeom says, after a stretch of tense silence. He lifts his chin. “The Bheir Shallows don’t scare me.”

“I’ll sail with you,” Youngjae agrees quickly, nodding at Jaebum. Coco bounces on his shoulder in synchronization. 

They all turn to Jackson then, whose forehead is still creased in thought. “I think you’re making a mistake,” he finally says, rolling the parchment up and handing it back to Jaebum. “But I promised Jooheon I’d surveil you during this time. So I’ll shut up and surveil.”

Jaebum takes the map, nodding curtly. He looks again to Jinyoung, but the prince has lowered his gaze, and he scurries back into Jaebum’s quarters. 

Youngjae squints across at Jaebum suspiciously. “What did  _ you do _ to him?” He wonders, waving the bucket in accusation.

 

//

 

Jaebum doesn't follow after him, and Jinyoung is thankful for a few moments of quiet. 

He washes his mouth out vigorously, and nestles on the floor against a window. Knees up to his chest, he stares out at the busy harbor in a detached sense of confusion.

Jinyoung had dizzily thought of the night before as a last attempt to take some control of his situation. But now his future was shifting again, his path shifting like water before he could come to terms with with it.

Jinyoung still hadn't completely recounted what happened, had been content this morning to move on from the hazy blur of pleasure. But now, knowing he'd stay with the captain a little longer, knowing he may end up marrying Hyungwon after all, he had to reconsider his own boundaries.

He remembers the push and pull of it: the way Jaebum had spoken darkly and spanked him; and the way he’d pushed back abruptly to wring Jaebum’s orgasm out of him with the insistent press of his ass. He remembered guiding Jaebum’s hand around him, and the resulting waves of bliss.

Jinyoung doesn't remember anything past that. He's certain he'd feel sore if they’d gone any farther, so he thinks his virtue may remain somewhat intact. 

But there’s still a strange, lingering sort of shameful pride. The heat of it, the way he'd felt Jaebum pulsing against him with each hitch of breath, Jinyoung couldn't look back on it with anything but pleasure. But how to parse it in the daylight, when he'd been seemingly gifted something in return? How must the others think of him?

There's a creak of the door then, and Jinyoung startles, heart leaping into his throat. But he calms as it's Youngjae at the door, still looking foggy and, Jinyoung notes with a small smile, wearing mismatched boots.

He's brought a bundled kerchief, and he spreads it open as he settles across from him on the floor. He's packed a few sausages, some fragrant cheese and an apple. 

“You threw up everything,” Youngjae says. “You must be hungry now.”

Jinyoung tries to keep his voice even as he whispers his thanks, biting into the spiced meat gratefully. At least Youngjae doesn’t seem repulsed with him.

“Hyung,” says Youngjae, starting to peel the apple with a knife from his belt. “Are you okay?”

Jinyoung unconsciously glances over at the bed, wrinkled linens twisted and spilling over the edge. He realizes how guilty he must look as he turns back, face flushed, and finds Youngjae paused in his peeling.

“Oh,” says Youngjae,  _ “did you really?” _

Jinyoung wipes his mouth and looks stubbornly away. 

“Can you remember any of it?” Youngjae continues. “Was it enjoyable, at least? When you’re drunk, sex can get a little overambitious, right?”

Jinyoung peeks back but only keeps his eyes fixed on the spiralling apple skin, spinning off Youngjae’s knife in one long, even ribbon. 

“It wasn’t...  _ sex,” _ Jinyoung murmurs. 

Youngjae hums. “I think it’s all kind of sex,” he says. “But okay, so you didn’t overdo it, that’s good.”

Jinyoung is silent a moment longer, watching the peel continue to unwind. 

“But Youngjae,” he says slowly. “Was it all a big waste – if I’m going home anyway? If I won’t be sent to the Parlours?”

“A waste?” Youngjae lowers the fruit. “I thought you agreed shacking up with the duke wasn’t exactly your choice either? I know you were under some influence - cider can make men passionate, and I was pretty obnoxious. But did you not want to  _ try _ something?”

A beat passes, and Jinyoung feels his cheeks burn as he considers it. “Would you think poorly of me, Youngjae?” He asks.

_ “What?” _ Youngjae sputters, flinging the apple at him. “Jinyoung hyung, you saw me agree to fuck two men at the same time! Why would I disapprove of you fumbling around with the captain?”

“Do you think it’s why he changed his mind, though?” Jinyoung asks, quiet. “Is that really any better than someone who pays at the Parlours _? _ Isn’t that an exchange of sorts, too?”

“Oh, you think you must have been  _ that good,”  _ Youngjae says with a smirk, and Jinyoung swats him hard on the arm. Youngjae dissolves into giggles for a moment before collecting the apple and resuming his work.

“I don’t know,” Youngjae admits, “it couldn’t have hurt. But I know Jaebum hyung is always thinking about how to make the world better, or how to keep things fair. So I was surprised he let Jackson take you to see Mark at all. But he’s intimidated by Jackson, and trying to seem like a  _ man _ is the only other thing I’ve seen him worry about.”

Youngjae squints at Jinyoung suspiciously now, offering him a slice of apple from his blade.

Jinyoung hesitantly takes it from him, eyes wide in question.

_ “Well?” _ Youngjae says. “How  _ much _ of a man is he, really?”

Jinyoung sighs, letting his eyes roll with the familiar absurdity of it. “I don’t know,” he sputters.

“How can you _ not know?” _ Youngjae blurts out. “You said it wasn’t sex, but were you just sitting in here gazing at each other’s faces, or what?”

“He left his pants on,” Jinyoung says, “and then, when I  _ saw it, _ it was no longer erect.”

“No longer erect,” Youngjae chortles, around a mouthful of fruit. “You sound like an anatomical text.”

“It still looked,” and Jinyoung feels even his ears burn, “healthy.”

Youngjae rocks back in hard, silent laughter for a moment, but he nods in satisfaction. “Thank you for your report,” he says pluckily, offering Jinyoung another wedge, this time with some cheese. “You have put his crew at ease. Finally we can brag about our captain.”

Jinyoung tries not to laugh with his mouth full, hiding his smile with a hand.

“But hyung,” Youngjae says after a moment. “You’ll have another few nights in here, after all. You’ve got plenty of time to complete a full investigation of the matter.”

Jinyoung snatches the kerchief up and whips him with it.

Youngjae giggles and flinches out of reach, before getting to his feet. “Come on,” he says, extending a hand to Jinyoung. “I know you and Bamboo probably weren't taught anything about sailing a ship like this in Prince School, so you can help me pretend to take stock in the galley.”

Jinyoung takes his hand eagerly.

 

// 

 

_ At sea; _

“I would advise you to come down from there, your highness,” Seunghoon shouts up at the main mast of  _ the Winn _ . 

“Whoa,” BamBam warbles down from the lookout. “Did the wind get much stronger all of a sudden?”

“The crow’s nest can make even our most seaworthy men nauseous,” says Seunghoon, glaring across at another officer, who smirks back. “Mino shouldn’t have let you up there.”

“I don’t get seasick,” BamBam’s voice dizzily assures him. “It's just very tippy up here, so I feel a little... tipsy.”

“Climbing down would certainly remedy that,” Seunghoon calls.

A strong wave buffets the ship, starboard side. Seunghoon and Mino adjust their footing to maintain their balance, glancing at each other knowingly.

_ “Oh,” _ says BamBam after a moment. “Actually, it seems I do get seasick, Admiral.”

“Mino will be up in a moment,” Seunghoon shouts, eyes rolling. “With a mop!”

 

//


	7. Deluge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I got sick right before the weekend so my writing schedule was thrown way off. Luckily this chapter is a little longer, so I hope it makes up for it. I'm going on vacation next week so I'm not sure about the timing of the next installment either, but I do hope to find time to write a little regardless. Let me know your thoughts!

_ At sea; _

Setting sail goes remarkably smooth, considering the crew’s suspicions about instructions to return to where they’d just left.

Yugyeom joins Jaebum at the bow, peering up at the sky as  _ the Nora _ skims through scenic, turquoise waters off the coastline of Anduçal’s outer regions. The land mass is split by a long, lazy channel before Avanth, and it starts out as a spectacularly rocky tributary down by the Bheir Shallows. It’s a beautiful region, long left untouched out of fear. 

The Bheir Islands themselves used to be known for lush, tropical landscapes and warm waters. Fishing and fruit exports were abundant, before Cranks settled in the region.

Cranks weren’t, by any means, the only dangerous pirates at sea. But the way they were known to systematically move in on their targets, exploiting regions one by one until they exhausted the resources, was infamously efficient. They spread like a disease.

Jaebum isn’t wholly certain Anduçal would be able to recover, even with bolstered military force. But he refuses to tip another scale in their favor.

“Looks like rain,” Yugyeom says beside him, and Jaebum peers upward nervously.

“We won't run aground,” Jaebum assures him. “If anything, it could help raise the water levels.”

“It's the wind we should worry about,” Yugyeom says, biting his lip. “She doesn't care for any laid course.”

Jaebum watches the clouds churning dark and low in the distance, the Bheir Islands coming into view as dark, misty daubs on the horizon.

“We’ll stay slow and centered,” he says softly. “We’ve got to.”

Yugyeom squints at him curiously. “Your focus has shifted lately,” he says. “Where normally we’d have stayed on in Anduçal to find some small ways to help – your scope has gotten a bit too wide, I think.”

“How could I remain passive in this?” Jaebum asks. “I know Jackson wants the money, I know it’d be good for us. But I can’t ignore my gut.”

There’s a pause, as Yugyeom scrutinizes his face carefully. “Is it your gut you’re listening to?” Yugyeom asks. “Or is it your heart?”

Jaebum makes a face of disgust at him.  _ “Really?” _ He asks.

Yugyeom breaks into an embarrassed smile, leaning away from a quick swat. “It’s a fair question!” He defends himself loosely from several more slaps with the back of his arm.

“You’ve always been a bit of a moral crusader,” Yugyeom continues, “but now you’ve moved the prince into your quarters and it seems… like it might be beyond the usual realm of a do-gooder.”

“How does it seem?” Jaebum asks, turning away and crossing his arms.

“Has he, sort of, seduced you into it?” Yugyeom wonders.

Jaebum lets his arms fall apart with a laugh, genuinely amused by Yugyeom’s tip-toeing tone. “My decisions are my own,” he says, once sobered. “Jinyoung seducing me is a separate headache.”

Yugyeom’s eyes bulge out and he staggers away from him, hand swift to suppress a melodramatic gasp. “It’s  _ true?” _ He squeaks. “Youngjae alluded to it, but I thought Jackson had just made it up since he’s such a perverted influence.”

“You think I’m _ a pervert?” _ Jackson says, popping up next to them with an enormous grin.

Jaebum turns with a snort as Yugyeom waves a hand in apology. “Just, in comparison!” He stammers.

_ “I’m _ not the lusty pirate captain going around deflowering royalty,” Jackson says.

“Nobody’s been deflowered,” Jaebum says before he can think it through, the word tasting awkwardly romantic. Peach Blossom title aside, Jinyoung probably wouldn't consider himself a flower to be plucked.  _ Devoured  _ maybe, Jaebum thinks, cheeks flushing.

Jackson clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. “You know that can't end well. Even if you get him back home after all, do you think you're doing him a favor? Tempting him with this illusion of freedom?”

Jaebum looks sharply at him, the sweet thought of tasting Jinyoung quickly turned sour. “It's not an illusion,” he manages after a moment. “I'm not tying him up anymore.”

“Unless he asks for it,” Jackson says, brows wiggling, and Yugyeom screeches in embarrassment. Jaebum tries not to imagine it and fails.

“But after all the fun and games — you’re going to send him back to his gilded cage,” Jackson sighs, petting Yugyeom's head gently as the younger man’s delighted expression fades. “A classic little tragedy,” he hums.

Jaebum glances back at the horizon, where ominous stormclouds churn closer still. And he wonders, if Jackson may be right: is it worse to indulge Jinyoung’s whims? 

 

//

 

The rain starts as a mist — clouds suddenly descending upon them like a thick, dark blanket. 

Jackson darts from side to side of the ship, nervous about the visibility. Youngjae appears at his side, touching a hand to his arm where his tension is most obvious.

“Do we need extra hands on deck?” Youngjae asks. “Jinyoung hyung can take a task if we explain it — Changkyun too, if we need it.”

Jackson looks at his face, his own frown easing away at Youngjae’s soft, pouted expression of concern. His stomach twists at how easily the younger has attached himself to the prince. A prince Jackson wanted so desperately to sell. He reaches out and squeezes him by the nape of the neck. 

“Not yet,” Jackson says, “you can keep them dry for now.”

A beat passes, Youngjae letting himself lean on Jackson, bodies warm together in the mist. Jackson is shorter than Youngjae, but he still wraps an arm around him protectively.

“Do you really think we’re making a mistake?” Youngjae asks, uncommonly quiet. 

“Yes,” Jackson says easily. “I wanted us to eat good, Youngjae-yah… and,” he turns abruptly to the dark, shifting fog around them.

“What?” Youngjae taps him on the breast, impatient.

Jackson doesn't reply still, arm dropping with a step back as he squints off portside. He hesitates another moment before turning back, his frown returning.

“And I always feel like I'm making a mistake, when I leave Mark alone there,” Jackson admits.

Youngjae lets his hands retreat, wrapping them around himself glumly. “I'm sorry,” he says softly.

“It won't always be like this,” Jackson says, and nudges Youngjae’s cheek gently. “I'll fix it.”

Youngjae peers across at him strangely, looking unsure about his resolution, but he nods after a moment anyway.

Youngjae glances out over the water then, and his breath shifts. “Hyung,” he whispers. 

Jackson whirls back around, peering out over the choppy water, through the steadily increasing beat of rain.

“Captain!” Jackson roars, and takes out a spyglass. Dotted along the shore of the islands, as they break through the clouds, are dim, dark structures, looking loosely sketched into the landscape. Jackson isn't sure what he's looking at. Another cloud passes, and they come more sharply into focus.

Jackson realizes, breath catching heavy like a stone his throat: they're burnt out buildings. The charred, rickety frames of a once-sprawling village, gutted.

“What’s happened?” Jaebum’s voice asks beside him.

Jackson hands him the spyglass, mouth gone dry. Jaebum stays silent, even after lowering the scope with a troubled sigh. Jackson braces his arms against the railing, head drooping, and he feels a worried Youngjae curl his hand over his shoulder.

“Did Cranks really do this?” Youngjae asks. The rain has grown heavier, and Jackson feels his jacket starting to weigh him down. He feels stifled, restless. The ship’s vulnerable course feels eerier now.

“Why would they burn everything down?” Jaebum wonders. “Wasn’t this supposed to be their home? Or at least, a space to return to?”

“They were done with it,” Jackson says gruffly. “It’s not enough for them to use something up. They’ve got to break it, too.”

And all he can think of is Mark; the press of his soft lips and the lingering scent of spices.

 

//

 

The rain is pounding. Jinyoung has never gotten seasick, but the rock of the boat is intense, and the narrow space of the galley feels claustrophobic where it once felt cozy.

Jinyoung has felt on edge throughout this ordeal, but he's rarely felt so explicitly  _ unsafe, _ trying to press himself low to the table. Across from him, Peniel cheerfully chops vegetables as he sways from foot to foot, his knife never missing its mark.

“Sounds rather bad,” Jinyoung murmurs, as the wood of the ship creaks in a particularly low dip. The combination of uncertain waters and pelting, sideways rain is cacophonous. He doesn't want to even imagine what it's like on deck.

“This isn’t anything,” Peniel says. “Back home, I was good and familiar with a summer storm. These waves don’t feel too tall - but it’s good we’re staying slow and steady since we don’t have much room.”

Jinyoung nods, before a clap of thunder startles him back to stillness, gripping the table tight.

“She’s an old boat,” Peniel adds, “but she’ll hold together.”

A loud, yawning creak in the belly of the ship leaves them both silent for a moment. 

“At least, I think she should,” Peniel shrugs, turning back to his vegetables.

Jinyoung looks away with wide, alarmed eyes, still holding onto the built-in table for stability.

 

//

 

“Captain, what if we try to gain shelter?” Yugyeom calls out, pointing off the bow. “It looks like there’s some outcropping on the islands, just portside. If there’s a sound, we could find anchorage and settle overnight until it clears.” 

His voice is thin over the steady pound of the rain and the roar of waves cresting, but Jaebum and Jackson both hurry to his side, passing a telescope to observe the way the land meets the water on the islands ahead.

“Does it look deep enough?” Jaebum wonders, peering at the way the waves churn and ebb, some currents making their way into what looks like a small bay.

“I can get us closer and we should be able to read the water,” Yugyeom assures him, rain running off his nose. “The swell and the shoreline will make it easier for us to determine.”

“Cliffside might be safe,” Jackson says tensely. “But are we really certain we want to be sitting ducks?”

Jaebum glances at Jackson warily, then gestures for Yugyeom to help direct the helmsman at the wheel. “Are you worried about the Navy?” He asks, and a flash of lightning illuminates Jackson’s face - bare and clear against the dark of the night sky. 

He blinks calmly, unflustered by the water pouring over his eyes. “Of course,” Jackson says, voice low and serious. “And frankly, I’m worried anybody  _ else _ who’s crazy enough to be out on these waters. We drop anchor, we might as well hoist a white flag. There’s vulnerable, and then there’s  _ foolish.” _

The thunder from the lightning strike follows his pronouncement with an ominous sizzle, and Jaebum doesn’t try to hide his frustrated sneer. Jackson raises a fair point, but it’s not what Jaebum wants to hear – as usual.

“I’d rather be vulnerable for a night, than have Nora dashed on the rocks and lose a whole crew to one summer squall,” Jaebum growls.

Jackson nods small, stepping away. 

“We’ll keep our sails up as long as possible,” Jaebum concedes, eyes back on the water as they approach the bay. “In case it looks like we have to bail out.”

As Jackson rushes off to relay the directions to the rest of the crew on deck, Jaebum fumbles with his coat, the wet material feeling thick and clumsy. Finally, he finds his compass and runs his thumb over it briefly. The smooth case is still there, a reassuring weight in his pocket. He can only pray he’s going the right way.

 

//

 

Jinyoung waits for the storm to sound reasonable. He thinks desperately of Jaebum’s cramped, cozy bed, of warm little ship cats curling around his feet, and the comforting weight of a man beside him. Jinyoung had spent his life sleeping alone, in lonely tower rooms protected by guards and stone walls. 

Waking up next to another human being still startled him, early that morning. Yet he’d laid there a while longer, watching the captain breathe slowly, enjoying the web of warmth built between their bodies. He’d marveled, for a moment, at how natural it felt. And then the nausea had hit.

Now, the rain has softened, though the rhythm remains steady. He hasn’t heard thunder in an hour or so, and the lilt of the boat feels more predictable – so he thinks he might attempt to make his way back to the captain’s quarters.

Emerging from below deck to the howl of wind, a sideways rain immediately pelting him in the face, Jinyoung wonders if he should have settled for crawling into Youngjae’s hammock instead. 

As he struggles to clamber out and shut the hatch tightly after himself, the hem of his coat gets caught in the latch, and he tugs miserably at it, water heavy on his lashes and making his vision bleary.

Someone tugs him aside, and there's a flash of a dagger as Jaebum cuts his coat free. He sheathes his blade and then secures the hatch for him, one-handed as he grips Jinyoung’s sleeve still. 

His face looks tense, older and strained against the whip of the storm, cheekbones sharp as he escorts Jinyoung firmly to his quarters. Jinyoung feels suddenly, uncommonly grateful – Jaebum was looking out for him, in his own strange manner, noticing him first even in the midst of a storm. And for once, Jinyoung finds him rugged, capable.

But then Jaebum literally tosses him into his cabin, and Jinyoung goes sprawling across the floor onto his knees with a clatter. The door slams shut and Jinyoung stares up at it in silent indignation, gathering himself to his feet, fists clenched. 

He stares at the wood panelling, brimming with impotent rage for a moment longer, and then finally lets out a tight breath, fingers unfurling. Chivalry isn’t to be demanded from a pirate, he supposes, even after you’ve rubbed each other off.

Jinyoung turns away, face still sour, and spots a sheen off something on the floor. His fingers are hesitant as he scoops it up for inspection. It’s Jaebum’s broken compass.  _ Enchanted, _ Jinyoung can nearly imagine Jaebum correcting him. It must have slipped from his jacket when he’d heaved Jinyoung through the door.

Jinyoung turns it over once, twice in his grasp. The wooden case is scuffed, but smooth – kept tenderly oiled by Jaebum’s own fingers. 

Jinyoung feels, for the first time in his life, unworthy of a treasure, and he keeps it shut. He clasps it to his chest as he stares back at the door, shivering slightly in his wet clothing.

As if summoned, Jaebum returns then, surprised to find Jinyoung looking at him already. He shuts the door on still howling winds, and lightning fills the room with stark, even light for a moment. It illuminates the sheen of rain in Jinyoung’s hair, and Jaebum is reminded again of sirens, of mythical beauties.

“I had to set Yugyeom as the first shift of night watch,” Jaebum says, uneasy and unsure why he feels the need to explain himself.

Jinyoung holds out his hand, and Jaebum sees his compass. Thunder booms in the distance.

Jaebum snatches it away, face immediately hot with suspicious anger. But Jinyoung’s eyes are soft, wary. “You dropped it,” he says, and Jaebum knows there’s no reason to be upset, his frustration simmering out as quickly as it had set in.

But this piece, this useless trinket, is all that remains of his mother. And increasingly, all that’s left of his own direction in life. And Jaebum stumbles past Jinyoung, staring at it in bewilderment. He hadn’t even known it’d been lost.

Jaebum untangles himself clumsily from his soaked jacket, letting it slop to the floor with his effects, exhausted. The storm had been physically draining – winds and stinging rain – but he feels suddenly as if he’s been wandering against the elements his whole life.

Jinyoung watches him stagger towards his bed, unsure if he should ask if he’s alright.

“It’s all I have,” Jaebum whispers, crumpling to his knees before he reaches it, head flopping against the mattress. He looks limp, wasted.

Jinyoung folds beside him, and they’re both quiet, for a long while.

“It’s all I have of my mother,” Jaebum finally explains, voice tight as he stares down at the compass. “It’s all I have to remember she wanted something better for me than this.”

“She’d be proud of you still,” whispers Jinyoung after a moment, hand softly curling around the nape of his neck. His touch is light, hesitant, like he’s not sure if Jaebum will allow it.

But Jaebum’s shoulders sag as he shakes his head. “She wanted me to join the Navy, you know,” he says. “So I rather doubt it. She told me I could earn a good, honest living that way.”

Jinyoung’s hand shifts reassuringly between Jaebum’s shoulder blades. “And why didn’t you?” He asks, voice even and calm.

“What?” Jaebum asks, looking at him with narrow, glazed eyes.

“Why didn’t you join the Navy, like your mother suggested?” Jinyoung prompts him again, face expectant. As if he knows the answer.

“Being in the Navy doesn't make you a  _ good man,” _ Jaebum says. “It doesn’t make you any more honest, it just makes you a fist in someone else's battles.”

Jinyoung nods, slowly, watching each twitch in Jaebum’s face as he keeps thinking about it.

“You’re never really making your own decisions,” Jaebum continues. “You always represent someone else — someone higher.” 

And it's then he looks up, meeting Jinyoung’s gaze. “For crown, or country,” he says.  

Jinyoung’s eyes soften, dark with a sheen like melted chocolate, as his hand slips away from him. They both seem to understand, the commonality. Jinyoung doesn't make his own choices either, even in a crown.

Jaebum holds the compass level again, flicking it open. Jinyoung watches Jaebum’s face, even as the needle spins, then visibly slows. Jinyoung's breath hitches.

“It's been doing that,” Jaebum says lowly. “My whole life. Pausing. But  _ recently—!” _ He chokes a bit on this word, as the needle stills, wavering ever so slightly. 

Jinyoung traces the direction silently, and glances over his shoulder at the windows. He hears another rattle, and turns back to find Jaebum staring at him, even as the compass spins once again.

“It's been… hiccuping like that more,” Jaebum says.

“What happens when it finally stops completely?” Jinyoung wonders.

Jaebum gives him a grim smile. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You'll follow it, right?” Jinyoung asks, after some consideration.

Jaebum laughs, short and bitter. “I think, when it stops, if I follow it — I'll die.” He snaps the little box shut and deposits it carefully atop the heap of his jacket.

Jinyoung frowns, perplexed. “Doesn't the timing seem off? You're far too young.”

Jaebum sighs, tapping his own chest. “Pirate,” he says softly. “I'm constantly in danger.”

Jinyoung clucks in disapproval. “That's ridiculous,” he says. “A compass is directional. It's not like a pocketwatch, like  _ you’ve run out of time.  _ It should show you where to go.”

“My mother said it would bring me home,” Jaebum confirms, nodding. “So I think it means — to her. In death.” A beat passes.

“That sounds impressively self-defeatist,” Jinyoung says. “Even for an unlucky pirate.”

Jaebum gives him another dark, wry smile that Jinyoung doesn’t return. 

“Captain,” he says softly, head tilting thoughtfully, and Jaebum’s smile withers away at his tone.

“It was hard to understand as a child, I remember that well,” Jinyoung says. “But by now you ought to know: your mother is  _ still _ with you. Wherever you go.”

Then he’s stepping away, and Jaebum feels a wave of warmth course through his body, nerves sparking alive. 

Jaebum had forgotten, hadn’t really taken note of it when Jinyoung had spoken of BamBam’s mother  _ still being alive.  _ And the clear implication: Jinyoung had lost his mother as well.

Jaebum stays still and quiet then, thinking about intertwining paths once again, eying his mess of maps. It is strange, he thinks, how fate seems to keep drawing lines between them.

The clatter of porcelain draws his attention finally, and he turns to find Jinyoung at his water basin, peeling his wet shirt off. 

Jinyoung slowly starts to bathe himself, bit by bit with a rag. Jaebum remembers his snipped, curt tone when he’d asked:  _ ‘Don’t commoners usually just sponge off?’ _

And here he was in Jaebum’s bedroom, naked skin exposed in the flickering candlelight, sponging off. Jaebum watches a droplet enviously, as it sluices down the planes of Jinyoung’s chest, tarrying around a pert nipple, before dramatically dripping off.  

Jinyoung moves to step out of Jaebum’s borrowed breeches, unfolding the waistline where he’d rolled them up to fit more snugly, but glances at Jaebum first.

“Would you mind looking away?” He requests. “I’d like to be thorough.”

_ “Thorough?” _ Jaebum asks, turning away despite his curiosity.

Jinyoung hums. “I like to be clean — completely clean. Everywhere. I don’t like to sleep in my own grime.”

“Completely clean?” Jaebum repeats incredulously, clambering up to perch in his bed in a daze. And he thinks of a drowsy, too-pink Jinyoung curling up in it, protesting his washcloth.

“You must be kidding,” Jaebum continues. “Last night I told you to wash up and you refused.”

Jaebum keeps his ear turned to him, listening closely, but Jinyoung doesn’t respond. Only the sound of the washcloth repeatedly being dipped and wrung out pierces through the dull roar of the weather outside.

“I had to bathe you myself,” Jaebum says, voice low like a growl as he remembers it, scraping his nails into his sheets as he tries to steady his breath. “You called it  _ ‘a worthy reversal.’” _

Jinyoung still doesn’t say anything, and Jaebum releases his bedding with a frustrated sigh.

“What else happened?” Jinyoung asks quietly.

“You don’t remember?” Jaebum asks, and he can’t hide the way his voice sounds a bit raw, hopes he doesn’t sound completely wounded. 

“Only–,” and Jinyoung’s breath stutters, “only a bit of the feeling.”

“You said we were  _ the same,” _ Jaebum offers, avoiding mention of their kiss, eyes fixed stubbornly on the wall. He swallows, throat feeling tight.

Jinyoung lets out a long, trembling sigh but doesn’t reply. Jaebum wonders if Jinyoung would ever recall the way their lips had moved together, wonders if he’ll be able to trace the sensation of it. For whatever reason, Jaebum  _ wants _ him to remember.

Jinyoung’s quiet sounds of bathing carry on a little longer, and then Jaebum hears him pad softly back to bed, feels the mattress dip beside him.

Jaebum turns then, sees him curling his knees up beside himself, shyly naked. His skin is pink where he’s scrubbed hardest, and his mouth is red. He hides himself by leaning forward slightly on his arms. Jaebum gazes idly at his skin and thinks of sun-ripened strawberries he would steal from the market in summertime, how they bled sweetly over his lips, sticky down his wrists. 

Jaebum wants to remember the kiss too, wants to remember if Jinyoung really tastes as good as he looks.

“May I borrow another shirt?” Jinyoung asks, quiet.

Jaebum shakes his head slowly, ears burning as he leans in.

“W-why not?” Jinyoung whispers, and Jaebum seizes his jaw in his hand, pressing in close and inhaling deep.

Jinyoung trembles under his touch, but he doesn't jerk away. Jaebum feels the heat of his own breath reflected back at him, mixed with the softly sweet, fresh scent of Jinyoung's skin.

“I would only tear it off you next,” Jaebum says into his neck. “Do you know what you  _ do _ to me?” 

Jinyoung gasps, placing two tightly clenched fists at Jaebum's chest, taut but not pushing.  _ “What? _ ” He asks, breathy.

“You come to my bed, smelling clean  _ everywhere,” _ Jaebum says, inhaling deeply again, and then letting it all out at once, lips trembling against his skin. Jinyoung lets out a little mewl as Jaebum presses his mouth fully to a spot just under his ear.

He takes a long, lazy lick to Jinyoung's skin, and then swallows loudly as his lips detach. “Every day and night,” he says, voice hoarse. “Your skin, your body – I am constantly thinking about how I should  _ wreck _ you.”

Jinyoung’s hands open flat against his chest, but they still don’t press him away. He’s shaking, flushed.

The ship is rocking heavily still, the waters uneasy, even in the bay where they’ve laid anchor. Another flash of lightning casts the room in bright, electric light for an instant, and Jinyoung’s gaze hardens slightly.

“You’ve already ruined me,” says Jinyoung, voice low. “Without even touching me. You let me breathe fresh, free air, and be unknown. It would have been better to leave me below deck to rot. If I return now, I’ll  _ never _ be satisfied—!”

Jaebum cuts him off with his mouth, lips slotting messily over Jinyoung's. The sound the prince lets out is swallowed up hungrily, as Jaebum's hands move to grip him by the hips and yanks him underneath him, feet tangling helplessly with the linens. 

One of Jinyoung’s hands winds around the back of Jaebum’s head, keeping his face almost uncomfortably close, nose bumping into Jaebum’s when he tries to tug back. 

“Is that what you want?” Jaebum asks, voice spilling out like oil. “Satisfaction?”

Jinyoung sounds out a hollow squeak as Jaebum takes his mouth again, teeth nearly knocking against each other in their haste. But it feels good, lips yawning open together, Jaebum's tongue eagerly swiping across the curve of them.

And the taste, the touch of Jinyoung’s tongue is better than he remembers, without the cloying syrup of the mead, without the feverish ring of sweat around his forehead that reminded Jaebum he was drunk. These lips press back, not faint with the hazy fog of sleep but alert, insistent, and moaning all the while.

Jinyoung’s grip around his neck is still too tight, but Jaebum savors it, the desire there unmistakably clear. The prince’s other hand has moved to his chest, pawing gently over the slope of it, finding his pierced nipple again and tugging hard.

Jaebum gasps into his mouth, nearly chuckling if it weren’t for the exhilarating sting, tugging back reluctantly once more to gaze down at him. Jinyoung doesn’t look embarrassed, just curious, eyes already wide from watching for a reaction, hungry to see his ministrations take effect. 

“What do you want?” Jaebum asks directly.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung admits, with a whine. “But when you touch me, I just _want–,”_ and he gasps and bucks his head back without finishing the thought, as Jaebum’s lips ghost along his collarbones.

“Easy,” whispers Jaebum, and it doesn’t resolve anything. But at least they’re in a similar headspace - in the blur of their circumstances, a touch of bliss. What else is left for either of them to pursue? 

And he tugs Jinyoung closer still, an arm wrapping low around his waist to angle his hips up, and then they’re kissing and grinding again.

Jaebum can’t get enough of how fresh Jinyoung smells, dragging his face down his neck and inhaling, fingers strumming down his ribcage. Jaebum touches his tongue to Jinyoung’s chest, and Jinyoung gasps and wriggles under the wet touch. Jaebum lathes down his breast, dipping in the valley of his abdomen, where Jinyoung arches underneath him self-consciously, and skims over the top of his navel. Jinyoung outright giggles at this, contorting breathlessly away from it. “It tickles,” he insists.

Jaebum huffs a soft laugh against his belly, and he gets a sudden, dark yearning to taste more of Jinyoung, to touch him more deeply.

“Roll over,” he says, and it comes out as a growl as he curls his hands down around Jinyoung’s ass, kneading it intently.

Jinyoung hesitates for a moment, chin tucked to his heaving chest as he looks down into Jaebum’s hungry eyes. 

But he doesn’t protest, and then he turns over obediently, bare and on display. Jaebum drinks in the sight.

“I want to try something,” Jaebum says, breath hot against Jinyoung, teeth scraping the skin at the small of his back. Jinyoung hums warily, but his hips stay up, swaying with each shuddered breath.

Then Jaebum dips in, kissing in along the curve of his bottom, soft and slow and gentle. He lays chaste, closed-mouth kisses in a tickling line, until he reaches Jinyoung’s center. His thumbs pry the cheeks apart, finding his entrance, and of course — he's pink here, too. Jaebum sighs against the little pucker, still slightly damp from where Jinyoung had made certain he was  _ completely  _ clean, as Jaebum had suspected.

Jinyoung chirps a bit in surprise, barely a breathy squeak as Jaebum presses his mouth in, flattens his tongue against the rim and tastes him. 

“W-what are you doing?” Jinyoung manages to gasp out. “Where did you learn to…?” But his words fall away with hiccups of pleasure with each stroke, and Jaebum smiles slightly, proud to render him speechless.

It’s hot and damp here, and Jaebum feels depraved, dizzy in his desire to move in closer, so he spears his tongue in deeper. Jaebum loses himself in the sensation of it — starts to slurp wet and loud as he thrusts into the molten heat past the rim.

Jinyoung manages more of a noise then, a guttural groan, and Jaebum feels the abrupt shift of the bedding as the prince tries to steady himself. Jaebum smiles against him, licking more confidently. And of course, he doesn’t taste as sweet as strawberries, but Jaebum thinks of them anyway, thinks of the firm hollows in the center of the fruit, of how he’d cleave them open with his tongue. Jaebum’s saliva builds up, making each punch of his tongue slick and easy, and he hammers it into him, prying him apart and flicking him wide.

Jinyoung is more sensitive - and far more vocal - than Jaebum had anticipated. He chokes and whines, curses like he’s been sailing his whole life. And Jaebum can't get enough of it – how  _ affected _ Jinyoung is, thighs shuddering as Jaebum’s tongue writhes inside him. His knees slide farther apart in the rumpled sheets, hips dipping lower, but Jaebum yanks him back into his face, holds him still while he nestles his face in deeper, chin sliding in his own spit.

Jinyoung cries out, trying to scramble away from the overwhelming touch of it all – slick heat and vibration singing up his spine as Jaebum works his tongue in a flutter against his walls. 

“Wait,” Jinyoung begs, “wait, I'm  _ already—!” _

And Jaebum can tell he really is close, the way his muscles spasm around his tongue, the way his breath is short and stuttering, but Jaebum thinks he can take a little more.

So he slides a finger in alongside his tongue, and Jinyoung wails, his whole body going stiff. “You have to relax,” Jaebum says, drawing back to press a reassuring kiss to his bottom again. “It will feel good if you let it.” There’s an unspoken  _ trust me _ here, a plea to hand over more of himself to Jaebum, if he wants to. And Jaebum watches, as Jinyoung’s back sags beautifully, easing down onto his finger more fully, with a quiet groan of assent that sounds like music to him.

And he dives back in, continuing to suckle along the rim as his finger probes deeper than his tongue, moves slick and determined into the suffocating heat.

Jinyoung is still trembling all over, too close to release, so it only takes a few final twists of his finger to press him over the edge. And Jinyoung coming this way is a new, fantastic image for Jaebum, who draws back to watch him as he crashes into the sheets, hips canting with a steady whisper of  _ wait, wait, wait. _

And then he lays gasping, rolling over to reveal a sticky web of his own cum and gazing up at Jaebum in terrific, wordless awe.

“Did you find that satisfactory?” Jaebum can’t help but prod.

Jinyoung looks too blissed out to reply, watching in silence as Jaebum shrugs out of his own damp clothing. Naked, he tugs the messy top linen off of the bed before stretching out beside Jinyoung.

His cock is hard, curved up against his stomach still, but Jaebum doesn't request anything. Still, Jinyoung eyes it curiously, and before Jaebum can protest, Jinyoung slinks down his front to take him in hand and licks the tip.

Jaebum melts, covering his face. “You don't have to,” he insists.

“But we’re the same here,” Jinyoung reminds him, hand working down the shaft while his lips bump against the flared head again as he speaks. “And I want to try it.”

Jaebum looks down in surprise, hands falling away. “You haven’t even done this, before?” He asks.

Jinyoung keeps his eyes locked on his face and lowers his mouth over the top again, slurping down halfway with a difficult puff of breath. Coughing, he pulls off again and nods. “How am I supposed to breathe?” He asks.

Jaebum chuffs a soft laugh, reaching down to nudge Jinyoung’s hair out of his eyes. “Through your nose,” he says, “and you can use your hand if you can't manage all the way down.”

Jinyoung looks fractionally startled, gazing down the entire length of him in his hand, as if fitting him hadn't even occurred to him. Still, he nods hesitantly, and licks along the sensitive tip once more, stroking slowly with two hands now.

Jaebum bites his lip and pants already, hips rocking in encouragement as Jinyoung pumps him toward his face, suckling the top as best he can.

The press of his pouty lips is raw and sensual enough, a plush ring that Jaebum can't help but thrust into gently. And clumsy as Jinyoung’s mouth may be, the damp slide of it is heaven compared to Jaebum’s feeble imagination and a ribbon.

Jaebum's eyes screw shut and his hips cant up off the bed, one hand in Jinyoung's hair as he slips deeper and deeper into the searing wet suction.

Jaebum can feel him slowly relaxing, and the sound of himself fucking into Jinyoung’s mouth is convincing enough that it turns him on even more. And suddenly, he imagines coming inside him, imagines hooking his knees over his shoulders, imagines fucking him into a warm beach, a wave of pleasure cresting over them and both of them coming at the same time.

Jaebum's never attached himself to anyone romantically — has bedded a handful of men and women — but he's never felt the overwhelming  _ desire  _ of it. The  _ want _ he feels, especially knowing Jinyoung won't be by his side forever, or even in a few days time. He wants to use him, wants to claim him, wants him more than he's wanted anything else.

Another long slide of Jinyoung's silky lips up his shaft and then Jaebum’s yanking him back by the hair. And Jinyoung gags a little as he pops off, looks up at Jaebum with teary, confused eyes and a swollen, pink mouth.

Jaebum loosens his grip but he still guides his head to his, kisses him like he’s starved and enjoys the salty taste of himself swapped between them.

But then he's roughly tumbling Jinyoung over onto his knees again, gripping his cock in his own hand and fumbling to curve himself over just right — “Hold it, hold it,” he gasps, spanking him sharply. Jinyoung looks up over his shoulder at him, one elegant hand pulling aside an asscheek to expose his raw, fluttering entrance once more.

And Jaebum strokes himself roughly, shooting hard as the lewd image of it sends him toppling over the edge. And he watches, grunting in satisfaction as it paints Jinyoung white, dripping down his legs like decadent icing. Jaebum deliriously thinks of  _ pearls for Avanth, _ but bites his tongue.

Jinyoung gasps with the heat of it, and he looks embarrassed, but he keeps himself spread as Jaebum then thumbs it gently into his still sensitive hole. Jinyoung lets out an airy squeak, but it turns into a moan as his knees buckle, and Jaebum helps turn him onto his side, spooning up behind him. 

They lay quietly, Jinyoung's breath still short as Jaebum continues to play with him a little longer, until the drying cum goes too thick and sticky. Clammy skin on skin, they shift against each other, sighing, and Jaebum tentatively wraps his arm around Jinyoung’s body. It does feel strange to suddenly become nervous about the simplest display of affection, after he’d tasted his very core. But Jinyoung had only said  _ ‘when you touch me, I just–!’ _ and Jaebum knew that wasn’t necessarily an invitation to romance.

And it’s foolish, he knows, to let his fingers linger so lightly, to drape himself over the prince’s shoulder and tenderly mouth at it. It will only make returning him to Avanth painful. But Jaebum can’t find any strength to resist, and as Jinyoung nearly purrs as he drifts off to sleep, Jaebum knows neither of them will make it out unscathed.

 

//

 

Yugyeom is lightly dozing, staring off at the mouth of the bay in a blank stare. If the Navy had found them, at least they’d have time to dispatch a boat once he spots them. Or maybe it would be safer to hide the prince somewhere onboard? Yugyeom tries to recall every spot they’d used in the past for smuggling.

A thud startles him from his thoughts, and he snaps toward the sound.

There’s a hand –  _ two hands  _ hoisting up over the edge of the starboard railing. 

Yugyeom stares a moment too long – did someone from the crew falter over the edge? – and then dashes across, machete unsheathed with a yelp.

A gaunt man appears like a spectre, face smudged into the crude shadows of a skull. “Ahoy there,” he hisses, and Yugyeom brings his machete down heavy across his knuckles, spitting in his face.

The man falls away, but Yugyeom hears laughter, and he realizes another man is already in the rigging a few paces down. Alarmed, he hears another snicker and he hurries for a torch, holding it out to illuminate the starboard side. At least a dozen pairs of shining, sneering eyes peer back up at him like a plague of filthy rats – but they’re deadlier still. Cranks have found them, and they’re fast asleep in the water.

 

//


	8. Rip Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm back from vacation with minimal sunburn and a new chapter for you all! I hope you didn't forget about this story already haha. As always let me know your thoughts – this chapter really tested me since I'm writing action for the first time, so please forgive any awkward choreo etc.

_ Bheir Islands; _

Yugyeom screams for the crew, stamping the deck as he blocks a heavy swing from a second attacker, parrying with the torch.

Yugyeom swings the machete at the man next, crowding in before he can recover from overcorrecting to avoid the flames. He drives him backward, relentless, and then swipes at his legs. The Crank jumps over his blade easily, but then Yugyeom slams an elbow into his face on his landing, and sends him hurtling back over the edge.

There are two more advancing on him now, but he hears the hatch swinging open loudly, so he advances on them and blocks as best he can. “Get down, Gyeom!” He hears Jackson’s growl, and Yugyeom ducks.

A heavy sack crashes into his two assailants, rice spilling as one manages to slash it open before it knocks the wind out of him.

“I told you it'd end up everywhere!” Peniel says, shuffling forward with a cleaver and managing to block a few sloppy thrusts from the other.

Jackson doesn't reply, driving his sword through the sack and into the man it'd toppled, pulling it out neatly as he curls over. Yugyeom hurries to his side as two more have made it over the edge, and they engage them together.

“I asked Eunkwang to whip up something special!” Youngjae’s voice calls out, and Jackson glances backward in concern. The air whips sharp and cold beside his cheek in the next moment, and he turns back barely in time to dodge another slash of a sword.

“Who told Youngjae to come up?” He barks at Yugyeom, but the younger man doesn’t bother to reply as he staggers along with a pirate in a headlock, his own machete having been knocked just out of reach.

Jackson stabs his assailant in the gut and kicks him away, impatient and agitated as he whirls around. There are a few more Cranks crawling over portside, and he’s too late to stop them. One slides into the hatch and out of Jackson’s reach in the blink of an eye. Jackson curses, then turns to see the other has started climbing a mast with a dagger in his mouth, heading for the sails. 

Jackson starts toward him but Youngjae is a step quicker, clambering up after him like a determined squirrel, as familiar with every notch in its wood as if he’d hewn it himself. Jackson gapes for a second longer as Youngjae unblinkingly drapes himself over the Crank’s shoulders, elbow crooked around his windpipe.

The pirate’s knife clatters out of his now gasping mouth, and Jackson feels a sudden dip of panic in his gut as he sees the man’s hands loosen on the mast. Suddenly, both start to slide haphazardly down together, Youngjae hooked onto the dead weight of the other’s unconscious body.

Jackson’s heart feels frozen in his throat, limbs suddenly heavy as he realizes he’s a step too far, another Crank already sweeping toward his right side.

 

//

 

In the captain’s quarters, Jaebum startles and freezes suddenly, hastily dressed as soon as he’d awoken, his sword in hand and looking at Jinyoung strangely. He sweeps in toward him then, and Jinyoung’s heart flutters foolishly, but Jaebum just offers him the handle of his dagger.

Jinyoung takes it, eyes wavering.

“Barricade the door with the desk if you can,” Jaebum suggests. 

Jinyoung nods, letting the dagger settle beside him as his hands reach instead for Jaebum's collar.

“What—?” Jaebum is asking, but Jinyoung settles his lips over the question, eyes still wide open. They blink into the kiss, until Jaebum's eyes slide shut and he presses forward.

And they don't have time for this, the sweetly shaped pout of Jinyoung’s mouth or the rough scrape as Jaebum nips his lower lip and tugs it toward him. So it's over in an instant, Jaebum tearing himself away without a smile. But the taste of it lingers, the energy of it warming him from the inside out.

He’s bursting out onto the deck in the next instant, nearly skidding into the mainmast. Immediately he hears Youngjae’s nervous warble, and looks up just in time to see him sliding down it precariously, so he shoves his sword aside and tries to break his fall with his own crouched form. They slam into the deck together, the unconscious Crank shoved immediately off, Youngjae’s head lolling against Jaebum’s shoulder breathlessly.

“Not your worst timing, Captain,” Youngjae manages.

“Don’t  _ congratulate  _ him,” Yugyeom whines in passing, rushing to assist Jackson atop the forecastle. 

Jaebum helps Youngjae to his feet and then hurries down the deck to try to chase more of the looters away from some hacked open crates.

Eunkwang suddenly emerges from below deck, cautiously carrying a steaming cauldron, and Youngjae cheers, managing to duck a swing from a club. “Most of them are starboard!” He cries out, stamping on his assailant’s foot and scurrying to keep closer to Jackson.

Eunkwang nods, wobbling across the deck in a hurry and glancing down to see if there are any remaining hangers-on. There are several closer to the bow, so he tips the pot carefully between the rails, and piercing screams waft upward with steam.

“That’s hot oil,” Eunkwang calls down to them, cheeky even in the midst of scrimmage. “And bits of dumpling!  _ Eat well!” _

 

//

 

In the cabin, Jinyoung rushes to situate the dagger into the holster he’d borrowed from Youngjae, shifting his shirt over the top of it with trembling hands. The sounds of the fight outside the door grow louder still, heavy footsteps hammering throughout the ship.

He finally manages to start scooting the heavy writing desk toward the door with the intent to block it, as Jaebum instructed, when the door slams open and into it.

It’s ajar, jammed against the frame of the desk, and Jinyoung sees a gaunt, painted face peering through the crack. White, hungry eyes alight on him, and a crazed smile spreads wide. “Didn’t expect a Captain’s Boy in this dump,” the man says hoarsely.

Jinyoung keeps his arms up, trying to hold the desk safely in place, but his bare feet slip on the hardwood floor, as the Crank heaves forward with brute, blind force.

Jinyoung finally topples, and the pirate is on him in the next instant – long, bony fingers scraping into his scalp and yanking him by the hair. Jinyoung lets out an anguished noise, hands moving to try and dig into the man’s arm in an attempt to detangle himself, but the pirate drags him out onto the main deck in the moonlight, bare legs astir as he tries to pull away. 

“We’ll be eating good tonight,” the Crank says, bending down to inhale loudly into Jinyoung’s hair. The hot breath of his exhale against his skin feels rancid, repulsive, and Jinyoung dips into his shirt to reach for the dagger under his arm.

Then his assailant draws back to leer down at him, the wide, wobbling whites of his eyes stark in the dim light. Jinyoung stills, hand frozen on his dagger. “Will you be a sweet boy and take us quietly?” The man asks. “Or are you more of a screamer?”

Jinyoung flicks his hand out and down hard, driving the dagger into him, swiftly striking through the tense flesh of the man’s thigh.

Chest heaving, Jinyoung tugs his head out of the pirate’s slackened fingers as he turns to gape at the knife embedded in his leg. Adrenaline running high, Jinyoung feels a strange, immediate pulse of satisfaction.

But his relief dissipates just as quickly, as the pirate starts to laugh, jerking the dagger out of himself and tossing it aside. Blood oozes from the wound, and Jinyoung tries to choke back a sudden twist of nausea.

The man reaches behind him to retrieve a hatchet, held high, and Jinyoung’s heart lodges in his throat as he suddenly recognizes this as the wild-eyed pirate he'd locked eyes with during the pillaging in Avanth.

Before the man can swing the axe down, however, a hand grips his wrist tight and twists his arm behind his body, an elbow wrapping around his face. The Crank lets out a choke in surprise and Jinyoung glances up, bewildered and half expecting Jaebum.

But it's Changkyun who’s stepped in, feet locked behind the pirate’s own, and he bends him backward and twists his arm until the hatchet clatters free.

Changkyun collects it coolly, still gripping the man stiffly as he walks him to the edge of the deck. “Shouldn't touch what isn't yours,” Changkyun says lowly, and then hacks off the man's hand with his own hatchet. The axe stays stuck hard into the railing as the pirate screams out in pain, and Changkyun easily turns his feet over his head and off the ship.

Jinyoung stares across at the young man, shocked that it's him and unsettled by the continually frank displays of violence.

“I don't belong to the captain,” Jinyoung says shakily, still unsure about Changkyun’s intentions. 

“No,” Changkyun says. “I didn't say that, either.” And it's not an outright apology, for how he'd treated him before, but Jinyoung accepts it as one.

Suddenly, they hear Youngjae’s loud voice crying out and quickly muffled, and rush to the sound of it. They peek cautiously around the corner of the captain’s cabin, towards the bow. A Crank has caught Youngjae, and is brazenly pointing a knife to his throat with a sly smile.

Jackson is across from them, and Jinyoung watches as he seems to negotiate with the pirate keeping Youngjae at knifepoint. He's not close enough to hear what they're saying, but Jackson's face is pink, bare hands up and speaking grimly. 

Jinyoung can't help the dread that builds in his stomach, the seasick fright that rocks with each wave, hand trembling at his side. All he can think about is how Youngjae said he was only twenty, how soft his hands had been as they’d sliced him apples and cheese, how loud his laugh can get. Jinyoung abruptly latches onto Changkyun's shirt as the younger man attempts to move forward. He doesn’t want him to escalate this scene.

But the Crank tosses Youngjae aside abruptly then, as he and Jackson stare each other down. Jinyoung tightens his grip on Changkyun’s sleeve.

The pirate finally launches himself toward Jackson, and they grapple for a moment, Jackson moving with surprising grace as he twists easily out of every grasp and hold. Jinyoung watches nervously, the gleam in the other man’s eyes setting his skin aprickle.

Then it's too quick for Jinyoung to comprehend — the intruder is vaulted over the rail, feet twisting in a spin and hands flailing. There's a cry that silences in a splash, and Jackson peers down over the edge, chest heaving.

He glances back up, and Youngjae scrambles to his feet, turning to rush away. But Jackson grabs him by the arm, fingers digging into the flesh of his arm. He's whispering something into his ear, petting his hair, seemingly comforting him.

Jackson holds him tight to his side, nuzzles into Youngjae’s neck until his cheeks go pink and it looks like he lets out a breath he'd been holding. Jinyoung feels like he's intruding, doesn't understand the way his gut twists when he looks at them.

The deck feels suddenly, eerily empty as they all start to look around and find themselves alone again. There’s a hollow sense of victory, as Jinyoung knows it’s likely fleeting.

Across the ship, Jaebum leans out over the water to observe. It seems some straggling Cranks have gotten away, far out of reach like a smudge heading out into the shallows in a small sailboat. Another abandoned vessel still floats nearby, and Jaebum calls out to have it rigged up and brought aboard. There’s no reason to leave them any resources.

The sun is peeking over the horizon now already, dawn intruding without any rest. Jaebum sags against the railing, turning back to survey his ship, the deck a mess and his crew wrung out. Jinyoung is accepting a coat from Yugyeom, the younger man tying it around his hips and bare legs for him with blushing cheeks. Changkyun watches unabashedly from beside them. Youngjae leans into Jackson’s embrace as they approach, looking exhausted.

Jaebum turns to Peniel and Eunkwang, nearby. “Breakfast?” He suggests, thinly.

Peniel glances at the rice scattered across the deck from earlier. “Er, actually Captain – about the food supply?” 

“We’ll need to fish,” says Eunkwang. “Or forage.” 

“Or pray,” Peniel chirps.

“You must be joking,” says Jaebum.

“We have to set out,” Yugyeom protests. “We thought we were alone before, and look where that landed us!” 

“We’re low on provisions,” Eunkwang explains. “One of the last guys who got below deck barreled through the galley and slashed open more of our rice and most of the salted pork.”

Peniel nods. “If you don't mind a mildew marinade, I guess you're all set! But for the rest of us, a quick round of fishing would get us through to Avanth without diarrhea.”

Jaebum blanches, eying the now quiet, tropically turquoise waters of the cove. He imagines fish dizzily, daydreaming of reflective, rainbow scales roasting on a spit, and he can nearly taste the flaky, fire-grilled meat falling out of the skin.

The rest of the crew seems similarly swayed, even though Yugyeom looks sourly back out towards the channel. 

“No later than afternoon,” Jaebum finally says, gut grumbling. “I want the anchor up and our sails down  _ before _ sunset.”

 

//

 

_ Anduçal; _

“You don't think they’d have gone through the shallows, do you?” J-Hope murmurs, gazing down at Admiral Lee and BamBam as they converse with the duke and his assistant on the docks. “We didn’t see the Monsta or anybody else suspicious on the way over.”

“Duke Chae said it was Jackson and someone else, not Jooheon — you think it might be Jaebum?” Suga wonders.

Jungkook looks across at him in surprise, mouth dropping open. “Is that guy still around? Why Yugyeom ever took up with him is beyond me.”

“Okay, okay, say it's Jaebum,” J-Hope says, scratching at his eyepatch absently. “What kind of plan does he come up with, if he can’t sell the prince off immediately? Wouldn’t he want some reward?”

“Jaebum doesn’t usually do things just for money,” Suga says. 

“But what else do you do, with a shiny-looking prince like that?” J-Hope asks. “And he obviously attempted it, if they shopped him around to Chae.”

“The duke  _ did _ name Jackson, though,” Jungkook points out. “So maybe it was his idea to come here — doesn’t he visit Anduçal often? Every other story I hear about him mentions it.”

Suga hums. “Maybe he's local,” he says after a pause. “Or maybe there's family? He and Jooheon do feature here quite a bit.” 

A beat passes, as they survey the harbor in silence.

“Doesn't have to be family to feel like home,” J-Hope says, startling upright and gazing up at the coastal cliffs. “What about those Parlours?”

Suga and Jungkook glance up the shoreline to the faded complex settled high in the rocks. The little paper lanterns along the trail sway invitingly.

“Is he the type to favor a whore?” Jungkook asks.

“I’ve heard that place is Red Reaper’s,” Suga says, straightening up and tipping his hat back. “It's the last place you should get attached to anybody.”

“Wonder if they tried to drop the prince off there,” J-Hope wonders. “Not a bad place to sell a pretty face.”

“Would Jaebum agree to that?” Suga wonders.

“Why wouldn't he?” Jungkook asks.

Suga and J-Hope look at each other with strange smiles.

“He's sort of,” and J-Hope laughs, unable to contain his amusement. “Sort of a  _ good _ pirate.”

“Like a vigilante,” Suga offers.

“When it works out – it doesn't pay very well,” J-Hope says.

Jungkook nods, frowning. “I guess we don't even know if it's him,” he says. “But I bet Bam would be glad to hear his brother is with slightly less of a scoundrel.”

“Hey,” growls Suga, pretending to be wounded. “What's wrong with a scoundrel?”

“We could check out the Parlours,” J-Hope suggests. “Nose around a little.”

“Can't hurt,” Suga agrees, turning away from the railing, and then frowns deeply.

“What's up,” Jungkook wonders, curious about his expression.

J-Hope turns and startles as well, before letting out a long sigh. “Actually,” he says. “Might hurt. Quite a bit.”

“That's the Reaper’s ship,” he murmurs to Jungkook, nodding softly toward a dark, ominous looking tall ship. Its sails are all black, ragged, and the bow features a howling gargoyle. It’s cruising slowly into port.

“We might not want to sniff around his business while he's in town,” Suga says, touching a hand to his own nose. “Don't think he'd take kindly to that.”

“But we’ll just happen to keep our nostrils open,” J-Hope suggests. “Nice and wide.”

 

//

 

_ Bheir Islands; _

The morning melts away easily, fishing made simple with plenty of nets and willing hands. The crew are scattered across the shore in small groups, eager for a break from the work and grateful for a moment of peace after the chaos overnight.

Jaebum has let his head fall into Jinyoung's lap, looking limber and relaxed, shirt long discarded and skin bronzing in the summer sun. Jinyoung stares down at him in some surprise, breath hitching as he watches the way the captain’s face goes slack, a sight he wants to remember, in sharp contrast from its typical angles.

Now he looks younger, and Jinyoung stares down at the pretty shape of his lips, the dusting of his freckles, and the glint of his piercings.

“Is this okay?” Jinyoung whispers, as he starts to card his fingers through Jaebum’s hair. He doesn’t finish the thought –  _ is it okay to chop off people’s fingers in one moment, and relax on the shore the next? _ Or  _ is it okay for the others to see this? _ And maybe most of all:  _ is it okay to feel this way? _ But he leaves it up to Jaebum to understand, and Jaebum just hums into his thigh, warm breath a comfort against his skin.

His body is glistening with sweat, the lean definition in his arms made golden and dewy. Jaebum relaxes his arm up over his eyes to shade them from the sun, and Jinyoung takes in the way his muscles strain around his ribs, some bruising starting to appear from the earlier fight. The patch of dark hair in his armpit is unruly, and the musk from it makes Jinyoung feel dizzy, embarrassed. But he can’t drag his eyes away from him, even with the beauty of the little island cove competing all around them.

Jinyoung’s fingers trail helplessly down from Jaebum’s head then, thumb dragging along the softened edge of his tucked jaw and down the ridges in his neck.

Jaebum exhales sharply once Jinyoung gets to his collarbone, the back of his fingernails skimming down his skin. 

They aren’t that far from where the others have settled by a small fire. They had all eagerly shared bites of the first fish, skewered and charred, pairing it with sweet and salty sauces and some dried fruits. Now, everyone seems content, preserving and packing more fish for later.

So Jinyoung knows they’re well within eyesight, but he thinks the crew may be too lazy to glance down the shore, might overlook it when he drags his hand down over the slope of Jaebum’s chest. And just before he can thumb at the shining ring his eyes are steadily fixed on, Jaebum snatches his wrist and opens his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Jinyoung counters.

“Everyone is right over there,” Jaebum says. “You aren’t worried of what they’ll think?”

Jinyoung gazes down at him with a soft hint of a smile, his wry humor peeking through. “Are you upset because  I’m neglecting the other one? Did it get jealous?” He asks, his other hand darting out toward Jaebum’s left breast instead, and Jaebum yelps and grasps that wrist as well.

Trying to sniff back his laughter, Jinyoung stares down at him with his lips tucked tightly together.

Jaebum's face, in contrast, sobers. He stares up at Jinyoung, restraining his hands once more — but in a markedly different manner — and looks up at him with nearly suffocating fondness. Jinyoung’s smile slips away and his chest aches.

“I’ll give you a head start,” says Jaebum, voice low as his hands curl off Jinyoung’s wrists, and the prince stares down at him in bafflement for a beat longer.

“You’re wasting time,” Jaebum adds. Jinyoung leans back as Jaebum sits up slowly, staring at him with narrow, hungry eyes.

“Before what?” Jinyoung asks, wobbling to his feet, still wary.

“Before I hold you down and spank you in front of these men,” Jaebum growls, and before the words have left his mouth completely, Jinyoung is choking out an embarrassing laugh and splashing away down the beach.

The others have no doubt noticed them, but Jinyoung can't find it in him to care. He can sense Jaebum hot on his heels as he hurries towards the shelter of some large boulders farther out in the water, ducking behind one with a hammering heart. 

The water laps too quietly around him for a moment, the cold seeping quickly into his breeches at thigh height. Jinyoung wades as silently as he can, turning to creep around the curve of the rock. But there’s a sudden shift in current and Jaebum swims up between his knees and topples him over into the water. 

Jinyoung scrambles up again with an exhilarated laugh, breathless and soaked to the bone. He swipes a wave up at Jaebum, who hurries and cowers behind the boulder. Jinyoung hasn’t felt this young in years, hasn’t felt this weightless sense of mischief since he and BamBam were small.

But when Jaebum tugs him around the other side of the rocks, the youthful bliss of the moment ignites into something hotter. And as Jaebum runs his hands down along his sides and grips his ass, Jinyoung feels something like a hook of heat behind his navel, pulling him into Jaebum’s embrace until their bodies press together against the slope of the boulder. Jinyoung was satisfied with their breakfast but he feels like he’s starving now, as Jaebum kisses his lips wide open, breathing into him.

Farther up the shore, the crew spots them immediately, as they’ve chased each other completely around the boulders, back out of their cover.

Apart from the others, Youngjae hums as he watches them, slipping one last bit of sweet, dried pineapple into his mouth. He bites his lip and swallows loudly, as Jaebum kneads at Jinyoung’s ass, water dripping between them, glistening off their bodies as their tongues peek pink and wet between their mouths. 

Youngjae turns away, cheeks hot, and nudges Jackson with his elbow.  _ “Hyung~,” _ he says melodically, voice trailing off in a giggle. He can’t help but think about their time at the Parlours together, the hot press of Jackson inside him as he’d rocked into Mark’s embrace, the bump of knees and elbows and slow, marvelous kisses. He would settle for half of it now, would lay back or bend over for even a shadow of that blissful night.

But now, Jackson doesn’t look up from his empty plate, eyes locked on the lingering yaki sauce there as if it spells out something secretly to him, brow low in puzzlement. So Youngjae reaches across and smears his finger through it, spiraling it around until Jackson blinks up in surprise to watch him suckle into his mouth.

“Hyung,” repeats Youngjae quietly, getting on his knees and sneaking closer to him. “Let’s  _ do _ something.”

Jackson tosses his plate aside, cursing out a sigh. “I’m not really of the right mind, Youngjae,” he says gruffly, jaw tense.

Youngjae freezes where he kneels, before flopping onto his side in the sand with a pout. Jackson is almost always willing, eager to tumble into his hammock and quick with a kiss at the very least. He’s not sure what’s happening in his mind as of late, and it bothers him beyond the personal snub of it, beyond his immediate arousal.

A beat passes between them, tensely quiet.

“What did you mean, earlier?” Youngjae whispers, and Jackson reacts immediately this time, eyes sharply descending on his face, picking up his soft questioning gaze even through the tousle of his hair.

“When you talked to that Crank,” Youngjae continues, voice wavering. “You said to tell the Reaper you had one to trade for Ruby Red, if he’d just make the delivery. And you let him live.”

Jackson swallows heavy, lips pursed tight. “You can trust hyung,” he says. “I promise nothing will happen to you. I said I’d make things right, and I will.”

“Nothing will happen to me,” Youngjae says. “But what about the others? Jaebum and Prince Jinyoung? And do you think Yugyeom or the others would support you?” And he doesn’t say the word:  _ mutiny. _ But the way his eyes have glazed over, the edge in his voice, Jackson knows he understands the drift of it all. Youngjae is far from oblivious.

Jackson tips his head back, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know about all that,” he says. “But I’ve gotten too close to fixing things now. I can’t let it slip by without trying.”

“Would you trade me in?” Youngjae asks. “If I were in Jinyoung hyung’s place?”

“You’re not!” Jackson barks. “And I don’t  _ know _ him,” he says, and then they both pause and watch as Jaebum strides back to the gangplank through the shallow water, Jinyoung wriggling over his shoulder.

“None of us really know him,” Jackson says. “You’re all just taken in by his pretty face, but he’s no better than any other rich, empirical brat. All the money in the world and never a thought spared for people like us. I’d never do this to someone like you, Youngjae, you grew up barefoot like I did. But Jinyoung? His meals were never even cooked by his mother. He could stand a little hardship for once in his life – and it could lead the Navy right to the Reaper.”

Youngjae sits up, glaring at him. “Jinyoung’s mother is  _ dead,”  _ he says. “And it isn’t a luxury! Imagine never having a meal from your mother, even one, to remember.”

“I don’t have to imagine,” Jackson spits out.

“Then why is it so hard for you to  _ understand?” _ Youngjae asks. “Nobody  _ deserves _ to be sold away – not a prince, not anybody. Mark would rather throw himself off that cliff than see another boy take his place.”

“Well I’m not going to let him!” Jackson shouts. “I’m not going to sit aside and let Mark give up everything, just to make everybody feel better. I’m going to keep my promise and get him out of there, one way or another. This is the clearest path to it I’ve ever seen.”

“Then you must be  _ blind,”  _ Youngjae declares, scrambling to his feet and rushing away to the ship. The other crew members, a pace away, glance over in surprise. Jackson kicks the sand in frustration.

 

//

 

Jinyoung lets his legs rock back to his chest, breath hot and heavy as he invites his fate. 

Jaebum's skin is still cool to the touch, smelling of saltwater and sweat, and he folds over into Jinyoung's warm, open embrace. Jaebum kisses down his neck, burying his clammy face into the crook of his shoulder. 

Jinyoung has so much he wishes he could say, wants to admit so innocently what he's been thinking, what he's been feeling. But what is a soft heart, to the blackened, bitter soul of a pirate? What worth is there in sweetness, in the dark depths of the sea?

Jinyoung swallows his words, breathes only fragments of them into Jaebum’s ear. Begs  _ please, please, please _ but doesn't ask if he can stay. Says  _ yes, yes, there —  _ but doesn't admit he loves it here — loves the moonlight and the sunshine on the water, loves the way Youngjae and Yugyeom always tug at Jaebum's elbow with soft, buttery warmth in their eyes. 

Jinyoung feels something similar now, curling low in his gut as Jaebum massages him open with slick fingers. The smell of coconut oil is distracting, overwhelming; but he welcomes the distraction from the pressure of Jaebum's thick fingers. They're short and squared off, and bundled together they're a blunt force that Jinyoung thinks could tear him apart.

Instead Jaebum gently twists them inside, crooking his knuckles gently so they brush against each ripple in his walls. Jaebum paints a delicate picture inside him, stretching him so slowly.

Jinyoung arches off the bed into the touch, whines and writhes in selfish, narrow bliss. He could come already, Jaebum’s curious fingers mapping out a winding, wandering path to his pleasure. But Jaebum has a better sense of it than Jinyoung does, always ducking the pads of his fingers away from his sensitive spot before Jinyoung expects it. And now, three fingers splaying him wide, he twists them out of him with a soft sigh.

“Do you want me, Jinyoung?” Jaebum asks, face close to his again suddenly, and Jinyoung nearly whines, feels himself clenching for something, wishing Jaebum hadn’t slipped his hand out to ask.

“You’re  _ all _ I want,” Jinyoung admits hoarsely, and it’s enough for Jaebum, fitting his hips between Jinyoung’s thighs, slowly working his length into the heat of him.

And it’s almost pure heat, this part always nearly too hot for Jaebum to bear, the molten grip of another man’s body, the lewd connection of flesh to flesh always dizzily intense. And Jinyoung is still so tight, even worked open and left pliant and begging with arousal, he’s tighter than Jaebum expected, tighter than anyone in his experience.

Jaebum pulls back then, oil slipping down his shaft as he pauses, and then there’s a loud slap as he thrusts back in all at once. Jinyoung keens, head tipping back with the breathy wail, gasps for air and says  _ wait, wait, wait. _

Jaebum nearly stops, but instead he rocks slow and small, hips just barely pulsing against Jinyoung’s bottom, just a millimeter at a time to get him used to the fit. Because Jaebum is big – maybe not too long but thick, and it can feel a little too full at first, stuffed so deep like this. But Jinyoung adapts quickly after that, wrapping his heels around Jaebum’s waist and starting to meet his thrusts as they grow, taking him with a soft, pink expression of wonder on his face.

Jaebum pumps into him, drawing his cock up harder along his insides on each slide out, and Jinyoung rocks into the sensitive strokes with lidded, shining eyes. Jaebum watches in surprise as he finds Jinyoung fucks with his mouth wide open, guttural moans to punctuate every thrust and swivel of their hips.

They writhe against each other in blissful silence for a time, just the soft sounds of their bodies and the sheets around them.

“I want you to come inside me,” Jinyoung whispers then, unembarrassed. Jaebum frowns, struggling to focus for a moment.

“It’s too messy,” Jaebum says, “and you like to be clean.”

“I've swallowed you down,” Jinyoung says, face affronted. “I think we’re long beyond the scope of cleanliness.”

Jaebum hums, thrusting into him steadily, the squelch and the slap lewd and loud. Jinyoung bites back on a another mewl of pleasure, but it slips out anyway, stretched thin and high in tone.

“We’re not, though,” Jaebum says. “I could come on your face. I could paint your lips to look like pearls — I could slap you in the cheek with my cock.”

Jinyoung's face burns but he stays silent, watching Jaebum warily as he chews his bottom lip.

“But it wouldn't be half as dirty as me inside of you,” Jaebum continues, voice a downright growl. “Filling you up like that. What kind of prince would you be then? And when you marry the Duke after all—?”

“I want it,” Jinyoung interrupts hoarsely. “I want to feel what it's like and I want to keep the feeling within me. When I’m a duchess, I’ll remember your cum dripping down my thighs, and it’ll make me smile, and I’ll be written into history books as Jinyoung the Jovial.”

Jaebum sniffs out a quiet chuckle, bending to nuzzle and gnaw at his neck again. “I don't know if that'll be enough,” Jaebum whispers there. Jinyoung doesn't ask what he means — enough for whom? But he holds on tight.

Jaebum rocks him farther back, presses him in on himself until it looks like his neck might break, and fucks down hard into him — hammers his cock into the bruising wet clench that he holds apart.

This angle makes the slide almost too easy, and all Jinyoung can feel is the liquid heat inside him, the punch into his prostate leaving him gasping. His fingers scramble into the tangled cloud of linens, shifting around them in a haze. Jinyoung squeezes his muscles in hopes of more friction, whines for it.

Jaebum stops his pounding for a moment then, pauses to scrape his cock out of him, and Jinyoung feels an embarrassing hot trickle of the oil as some of it sluices out with his length. He whimpers, knees knocking shut together to slow it, but Jaebum yanks them apart again and  _ watches,  _ and Jinyoung has never felt more ashamed or more alive, imagining how pink and wet he must look.

He feels swollen already, fluttering, left open by Jaebum's girth. But Jaebum isn't done, angling himself back and settling upright, slicking his hand up over his dick, slowly. 

“Come on,” he beckons, “climb up and show me what you can do. Let me see you touch yourself, I want to see you.”

Jinyoung shivers, rocking to his knees and wobbling uncertainly as he crawls toward towards Jaebum's lap. He clambers over him, clumsily directing the flared tip between his legs, rubbing it against his entrance for a moment to make sure he situates correctly. And Jaebum moans even at this, the brush of his dribbling slit against the wet opening, their body heat intense where it collects. 

So Jinyoung carries it out a little longer, hand gripped around the base of him and rocking his hips subtly, smearing their fluids, letting Jaebum enter him for just an inch and squeezing him til he pops out again, playing dumb and breathless as he teases him.

It's wet and sticky and slow, until Jaebum thrusts upward in frustration, spearing deeper forward where Jinyoung has let him in a little. And Jinyoung loses his concentration and all of his balance, knees splaying apart wide as his body weight does the rest, and he jams down on Jaebum's erection fully, his own stiff cock twitching with surprise.

“Fuck,” breathes Jinyoung, and Jaebum nods, lap rocking already.

Jinyoung gives in, hand balanced low on Jaebum’s belly, scraping through the narrow line of pubic hair that trails from his navel to where they're connected. Jaebum is hot now where he'd been cold in the water, Jinyoung notes dizzily, pumping his hips down insistently.

He feels so full, satisfied by the stretch but somehow wanting more. He can feel Jaebum's pulse  synchronizing with his, can recognize a rhythm shared between them that shouldn't feel so sweet, shouldn't make him sentimental.

He should fuck himself raw on this cock and just come, weightless and untethered for one day longer.

But he grinds his hips around to draw it out, he stares down into Jaebum's warm, dark eyes and sees himself reflected: mouth open, face desperate, and so, so fond. And he wishes he could see it every day — wishes he meant something more to this pirate than just another tumble in his bed. 

“Touch yourself,” Jaebum says, hands on his hips to even them out. “Don't worry about the rhythm and just relax. I want to see it.”

Jinyoung feels him shift the control of each thrust, feels the power in Jaebum’s slim hips as he fucks up into him. So Jinyoung relaxes, lets his ass soften around it, bounces in his lap as he surrenders control, and lets his long fingers trail down Jaebum’s skin to his own.

He doesn't do it often, but when he does touch himself it's usually more luxurious — he likes to draw out the tension of the day with soft, long tugs up over the crown, likes to tease his slit with a well-placed pinkie. But he knows that's not what Jaebum is asking to see. And he isn't certain he would be able to control himself for it, focus stolen by the pistoning of Jaebum's hips, the hot cram of his cock between his cheeks.

So he wraps a lazy hand around his shaft and just tries to slip his thumb over the top with each flick of his wrist. Jaebum grunts in approval, hips slamming up still.

When Jinyoung feels close again, he doesn’t hold himself back, doesn’t try to play shy. He whines,  _ “Ca—captain,” _ out loud, and Jaebum curses, hips stuttering for once, and Jinyoung hums smugly at the sloppiness of it.

And then Jinyoung is gasping, body jolting as if it's been shocked through with ecstasy, blind and dizzy and miles away as he tumbles over the edge. He can feel his cock pulsing in his hand, the stickiness quick to coat the back of his knuckles, and Jaebum’s eyes on all of him at once.

Jinyoung looks down at him, meeting his gaze as he floats back down to earth. And then he’s vividly aware of Jaebum’s hardness still rocking desperately into him, the friction and pressure almost too much, oversensitive and blissed out. But then he feels the searing heat, the sudden slick of Jaebum’s twitching dick, as Jaebum bites down on his lip and groans with the force of his own orgasm.

And then it’s too much for both of them, whining and clawing at each other frantically. Jaebum insistently keeps rolling his hips until his softening cock slips out of Jinyoung, and he flops back onto the bed, dragging Jinyoung down with him, cradling his face to his chest.

Jinyoung doesn’t move for a long moment, even as he limply slides over to a side, keeping a leg thrown over Jaebum’s hips, hand at his belly. He can hear the pirate’s heartbeat, face pressed against his damp skin as he marvels at the flutter of it. Jinyoung knows it’s purely physical, knows the way it matches up with his own in coincidence, aerobically induced. But with another blink he finds Jaebum’s gaze melting with affection, deep and soft. So perhaps, they aren’t so out of sync after all.

Jinyoung licks his lips, and his chest burns at the way Jaebum’s eyes dart to watch it.

“You know, you never got around to spanking me,” Jinyoung points out, still panting.

Jaebum’s eyebrows tear upward and Jinyoung shudders out a teasing laugh, tugging away as Jaebum pretends to try to roll him over. They wrestle for a moment and dissolve into soft laughter, Jaebum curled around him on his other side instead, and then Jinyoung goes quiet and still.

Abruptly, he wonders if it’s strange to laugh like this after sex, wonders if Jaebum finds him silly, or if he can see through his playful remark for the underlying, genuine curiosity about Jaebum’s thick, strong hands. But they palm promisingly around the swell of his bottom now, and Jinyoung lets himself smile again, eyes bright.

“Maybe another time,” Jaebum whispers, hands kneading into him meaningfully.

Both their smiles falter at this slightly, but they both try to hide it, both try to smile through it, and it makes the lump in Jinyoung’s throat feel heavier. It’s like a stone now, and even as Jaebum leans in to kiss him sweetly, his mouth feels sour and full of unspoken words.

 

//


	9. Tide Turned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I apologize in advance that this chapter might be a little less fun than some of the others but you know, the sea can be unpredictable.
> 
> I took some time to consider these upcoming scenes with Red Reaper and was trying to decide if I should use a real name or not, but I think I'm going to leave him unnamed. I don't want anybody to take it the wrong way if I assign him as an idol or a producer or somebody real, since I get sensitive when my own favs are tossed in as some completely unrecognizable villain in other stories. So forgive me on the lack of detail there. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

_ The Parlours, Anduçal; _

Cranks employ crude facepainting, skulls over their faces, to ensure anonymity and so their victims know they are facing death. When going about evil deeds that require a little more discretion, Cranks will forego makeup. 

But they’re still recognizable to a keen eye. On the inside of each palm, and traced down each finger, the skeletal structure of the hand is painfully tattooed. An open handshake from a Crank is only ever an omen of your impending doom. Still, commoners rarely have better alternatives. And without a local military presence, Anduçal had been drowning in bad deals for a long time.

Red Reaper’s hand tattoos are red, of course. It had taken Mark years to teach himself not to flinch when they reached for him.

“Here's my little ruby,” says Reaper now, hand darting out and clutching Mark’s jaw, tucking the young man’s face into his chest. He embraces him firmly, and Mark places his hands lightly at his sides in an effort to seem welcoming. 

Mark tries not to inhale too deeply, having always hated the smell of his cologne — it's too sweet, a cloying, gourmand scent that feels deceptively innocent. He feels a kiss pressed into his hair.

“It's always too long between our visits,” Reaper says once he steps back, handing him a tightly knotted bundle. He settles onto Mark’s bed and watches expectantly.

Mark bows shallowly, untying the parcel with a soft nod. A strand of pearls and a satchel of fine-smelling tea appear as the silk falls away, and Mark hums in satisfaction. “Thank you,” he says, and Reaper moves to help lay the long pearls around his neck, fingers dragging along each bead slowly, knuckles tracing over Mark’s collarbones.

“You’re still the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen,” Reaper says, leaning back again, voice slick, hand slow to slip off Mark’s neck. “I thought your beauty would have started to fade after twenty-five, like everyone else, but look at you. Still outshining all the other companions.”

Mark shifts under his gaze, keeps his eyes cast low, keeps his lips slack and quiet.

“And how has business been?” Reaper asks, and Mark clears his throat, slinking just out of his reach to unlock a drawer in one of his end tables.

“Jooheon didn’t stay long last time, as usual, but one of his men was carrying this,” Mark says, as he unfolds a marked map. “And I heard the  _ Bulletproof _ docked earlier, but they haven’t visited yet and those boys never carry much on them if they visit.” 

He moves to overturn a small pouch, and a motley collection of jewelry clinks across the bedspread. “Then the usual extras,” he says, and Reaper purrs, tangling his fingers through the pilfered goods.

“This one looks nice,” he says, flicking open a pearly pocketwatch.

“There’s a diamond in that one,” Mark points out, tapping a fingernail to the face of the clock, pointing out the demure, winking gem.

“Maybe,” Reaper shrugs, tucking it into his coat. “When it’s this small, nobles don’t seem to care if it’s faux or not.” 

Mark nods, but he knows: this is a lie. He's known the distinction in real and fake jewelry since he was young, and much of it hinges on the simple fact of whether or not the Reaper nonchalantly pockets it.

Red Reaper has lied and stolen from him since he was a child, but Mark has relied on him for so long he isn't certain he could survive without him.

The older man peers down at the map then, as Mark continues to settle the jewelry for review. He tries not to look interested, as always.

“The Delph region?” Reaper reads. “I've heard of treasure there but it's all just murmurs. Was Jooheon’s guy talking about anything specific? There's nothing major here beyond the ports. Little more than some sand bars.”

“Momo said he didn’t talk much, he was all hands,” Mark says. “She nicked it once he passed out.”

“Don’t let them get too sloppy,” Reaper says, folding the map and pocketing it as well. “The real loot is always information.”

Mark nods, staring at the floor. He can feel Reaper’s gaze, hanging heavy and suffocating on him like too much velvet.

“Still so lovely,” Reaper whispers, and Mark catches the movement of his hand in his peripheral a moment too late, is tugged into his lap before he can busy himself out of reach. Mark keeps his eyes down, as the Reaper touches his neck and breathes into his ear.

“You’re still dreaming of running away, aren’t you?” The older man says. “That boy’s still visiting you.”

“No,” says Mark carefully. “Jackson comes, but he never stays. There’s no reason to think about it. He even has a young, pretty boy on his new boat.”

Reaper chuckles, the vibration of it startling Mark slightly. He looks up in surprise, and then regrets it. Reaper has one dead eye – milky white and scarred over slightly, worn nakedly without a patch. It’s always difficult for Mark to keep his soft expression in place when he makes eye contact, trying to sweeten an image of the man in his mind when he plays demure and willing to every whim. Stealing, touching, making tea: all done with his eyes on the ground.

“Can’t be prettier than you,” Reaper says, a hand pressing into Mark’s thigh. “But I do have word from your Jackson, actually.”

Mark swallows heavily, blinking as he looks down at his lap instead, at the tight grip the older man keeps on him. “What word?” He asks, willing his voice to stay steady.

“Maybe it’s that pretty boy,” Reaper continues. “Says he wants to make a trade.”

Mark’s breath catches in his throat. “For me?” He whispers.

_ “Look  _ at you!” Reaper laughs – a hoarse, booming sound that feels too loud for the small space of Mark’s room. “Not thinking about it, my ass. You couldn’t want it anymore unless you’d sprouted wings and flew away to that boy.”

And Mark swallows his enthusiasm away, trying not to think bitterly of how long he’d prayed for that exact miracle as a child.

“Well maybe I’ll do it,” Reaper says after a moment, and Mark leans back to look him straight in the eye in shock. “Maybe I’ll take him up on his offer and let you fly free.”

“What?” Mark whispers.

“Would that make my little ruby shine again?” Reaper sing-songs, running his hands down Mark’s arms and smiling maniacally. “Would you let me see you smile, sweetheart? If I told you I’d let you go?”

“What about my father’s debt?” Mark asks, trembling. “You said I had nine years left on the books...”

Reaper throws his head back and laughs again, sharper this time, his throat sounding dry and strained. When he looks back at Mark his good eye is rimmed in red, glassy with tears of mirth. “Why don’t you go get my ledger?” He suggests, and dips into his pocket to offer him a small key.

“Do you know where it is?” Reaper asks gently, prodding his palm at Mark upon his hesitation.

“In your library,” Mark whispers, taking the key nervously. He’s rarely allowed in the room, only when Reaper is around. And while Mark is allowed, as acting manager, to keep accounts for the Parlours, Reaper’s personal ledger is strictly off-limits.

Mark had gazed up at it when he was young; Red Reaper hunched over his desk, tallying people’s debts and weighing it against the value of their lives. He’d seen him sentence people to death, time and time again. Once every year, Mark would inquire about his own debt — something Reaper had attributed to his father before him.

When Mark had been called out at the orphanage, when he was still small, he'd seen Red Reaper for the very first time. Younger, but just as gaunt and intimidating, the crimson ledger clutched in his hand. Mark had carefully uncurled each of Jackson’s nervous fingers from around his wrist, kissed his cheek, and hurried into the office. He didn't see Jackson again for a very long time.

_ “Tuan, right?” _ The head caretaker had asked, and Mark had nodded shyly. 

_ “Your father owed this man quite a bit of money,” _ she'd said. “ _ You'll work for him for a time, to make it right.” _

Mark had nodded again, looking up to find Reaper’s odd eyes gleaming down at him, paired with a toothy smile.

_ “It's all in here,” _ the Reaper had assured him as they'd pulled away from the orphanage in a musty carriage, patting the leather bound book.  _ “I keep very precise, very  _ strict _ accounts.” _

From then on, Mark had known he had a sentence, a time to serve. And it was the only thing that he could cling to, the only normalcy amid the madness of the Parlours. He had counted out his days one at a time, waiting for twenty-four years to pass.

And now, just nine years left, he’s allowed to lay his hands on the worn book, and he brings it meekly to Reaper’s side.

“You can open it,” Reaper says with a smile. “What was your family name again? It's been so long.  _ Tuan, right?” _

And Mark’s heart burns, stomach churning with a dark, strange scent of premonition.

His fingers tremble as he flips through the thick, yellowed pages, line after line of names and numbers, precisely counted.

Then he finds it, Tuan. His father's name, the only thing he'd been left with after the fire. And even now, Red Reaper likes to call him his little  _ ruby, _ and strip him of who he knows himself to be.

_ Tuan, Raymond.  _

A number for the loan then, large but not astronomical. Yet more concerning, a thick line drawn through it, annotated with a date. And a new balance:  _ collected in full. _

The date, Mark realizes with a hammering heart, was one he had often wished he could forget, but never would. The day his family home had burnt to ash. 

There is no separate entry for Mark, no additional notes about his time in the Parlours, just a blank record, a slate wiped clean with blood and fire, and a secret kept hidden from Mark for decades. 

“Y-you, you  _ told _ me,” Mark stutters, breath gone choked and short, ledger dropping to the bed as he scrambles away. “Twenty-four years, to make up for what my father owed you.”

Red Reaper smiles softly, touching his chin with a sigh. “We tell children all sorts of lies,” he says. “About fairies in the woods, mermaids in the water. It's all just meant to teach them a lesson, make them better people, right?”

Mark can barely hear him, the dull rush of blood in his ears making such a roar he can barely focus, eyes going dark and blurry with unshed tears. To think, of all the times he'd argued with Jackson. They could have run away, and it would have been right. Fair.

“Well,” Reaper says, looking at his open palms, at fading tattoos that look like blood stains. “I suppose you think I've been a bit cruel for this. But I think I've made you quite  _ good. _ No one else could run this place like you. I didn't have what it took on my own. And all the information, you really went the extra mile. Would you have done that for me if you were just another common prostitute? Sure, they need money, too. But the  _ debt—!” _

Reaper takes a deep, appreciative breath, as if he's savoring Mark’s scent, and he looks up at him with lusty eyes. “The debt is what really made you beautiful,” he whispers. “The quiet desperation, the downcast eyes, that mouth of yours that only smiles for your wayward lover. That's  _ gorgeous, _ it really is.”

Mark chokes on a sob, looking away as he clamps a hand over his mouth, feels the hot tears already running steady down his face.

Reaper is nodding, humming. “I’m surprised it lasted this long,” he says. “You're so smart, I thought you'd steal a peek at my book sooner. Or run away regardless. But you didn't! You stayed mine, and that—! That’s why you’re my favorite little gem. Nobody could ever replace you.”

Mark wipes the stinging tears out of his eyes, looking up at him with a sudden burst of indignant rage.  _ “Then! _ You can't take Jackson up on the offer. If I’m so irreplaceable, I won’t see you take another boy.”

Reaper blinks in surprise at the statement, pausing for a moment, and then laughs softly again.

“Oh, ruby love,” he says. “You're too soft, still! I know what you're trying to do and it's very noble. But I'm a greedy man, one little jewel would never be enough. And besides, this way we'll deal with your old sweetheart once and for all.”

Mark's chest aches, and he looks away again, listening in a daze as Reaper stands up, shutting his book and heading to the door. He feels a hand at his neck and for once, it startles him, as the older man abruptly yanks on a strand of the necklace, pearls clacking loudly as he tightens the loop. They dig into Mark's skin and his breathing goes shallow.

“Pack a bag, darling, it shouldn't be too long of a trip,” Reaper whispers in his ear. “We leave tonight.” The pirate lets him go, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Mark rips the necklace away from himself, and the string breaks, pearls exploding across the bed and floor, as he collapses in grief.

 

//

 

_ Bheir Shallows; _

Jinyoung is slightly disoriented as he stirs awake, on his stomach as dusk has fallen and the ship is moving swiftly again, somewhere in the channel.

Jaebum is already awake, propped up on an elbow further down in bed, eyes and hands all over Jinyoung's ass.

Jinyoung lets out a soft mewl of discomfort as Jaebum's hands massage carefully into the sore muscles at the small of his back, the over-strained hamstrings at the tops of his thighs. And then softly, more indulgently, he kneads out each cheek, less about knots and more about his own satisfaction, watching the way the flesh curls under his fingers with each squeeze, the jiggle as it settles back.

Jinyoung’s breath picks up as he fully opens his eyes, a healthy flush in his ears as he looks back at Jaebum’s toying with him.

“Are you a cat?” Jinyoung murmurs, still quietly playful as he scoots his hips up, stretching onto his knees.

Jaebum watches his body bend lithely and hums in appreciation. “Are  _ you?” _ He wonders, hand dipping around the top of a thigh and down into the bend of his knee, until Jinyoung is tickled enough to collapse again with a smile and a sigh.

They're quiet again then, even as Jaebum's hands are reluctant to leave Jinyoung's body.

“When did you get your piercing?” Jinyoung suddenly asks, cocking his head as he gazes at Jaebum's broad chest. “Was it on a dare?”

Jaebum glances down at himself for a moment and then raises his eyebrows at the prince’s question. “Does it look so bad it had to have been a dare?”

Jinyoung chews his bottom lip, shaking his head, and his eyes flickering over Jaebum's body feel hungry and warm.

“In Avanth,” he says after a moment. “Men typically don't pierce themselves in this way.”

Jaebum is surprised again by the curiosity, so he settles closer beside him with a sigh, bringing the ring within reach of Jinyoung's twitching fingers. 

“When I was much younger,” Jaebum says, “on the island where I was born, the nuns who ran the local orphanage were of the Laguos sect.” Jaebum glances at him. “Have you heard of it?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, brows low as he listens.

“They pierce it, in this way, as a commitment to their god. In dedication to a life of purity and service. Like a ring worn on the finger,” Jaebum says, and he can't help but grasp one of Jinyoung's long, elegant fingers, can't help but slip up to rub the knuckle gently.

Jinyoung hums, tugging his finger away with a slight frown.

“It was before I decided to leave home,” Jaebum continues. “At the time, it was my last thought to try and do some good there. I joined the sect and dedicated myself, so I could help with the orphans.”

“You were a  _ nun?”  _ Jinyoung stares at him incredulously. 

“A monk — and not for long,” Jaebum assures him. “It was all kind of a whirlwind anyway. I broke my vows within a month, was cast out of the abbey and headed out to sea shortly after that.”

Jinyoung squints at him for a moment, before his lip curls in disbelief. “You  _ fucked a nun?” _ He hisses.

Jaebum rolls his eyes, flopping onto his back with a huff. “It wasn't another nun! I was just, not very good at the purity part of it. I liked being able to help people, just… not as a monk.”

Jinyoung stays silent for a long while after that, face still decidedly judgmental. But slowly, his expression melts, and he turns to look down at Jaebum’s chest once more. He traces a delicate path around the nipple, fingernail grazing ever so slightly. 

Jaebum looks up to find his gaze gone liquid, surprised still by Jinyoung’s developing interests.  Jaebum lets his lips curl into a teasing smile. “Do you wonder what it feels like?” He asks.

Jinyoung shrugs, finger still softly swirling, but his eyes brighten.

“It made me more sensitive,” Jaebum admits. “That was part of the irony: being coupled with a promise not to touch it.”

Jaebum reaches out then, thumbs softly against Jinyoung's own nipple, and he immediately shudders and sighs. “You wouldn't even need it, would you?” He says, kneading the pink nub like he's about to pluck it. “You're already so responsive.”

Jinyoung whines a bit at this, hand slipping from Jaebum's chest to grip onto his wrist, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is that what all this is about?” Jaebum sighs, curling Jinyoung closer to him, ducking down and instead mouthing against his breast with hot, damp breath. “Such an intrepid little explorer.”

Jinyoung cries out, trembles in his arms like a leaf in the wind, swept away with each broad stroke of Jaebum’s tongue.

Jaebum is relentless, even as Jinyoung writhes and wriggles backward, arching under his hands and mouth like he's trying to escape the sensation. But Jaebum stays latched on, tongue swirling wet and hot, biting down and sucking hard until Jinyoung actually begs him to stop.

And then Jaebum draws back, satisfied by the way he's bruised the skin there, the way he’s marked him for himself.

He imagines how pretty Jinyoung would look with a matching piercing. Just a simple adornment, silver like  Jaebum’s, glinting against the deep pink of his nipple. Jaebum's mouth waters with the thought.

But then he catches himself in this soft moment, Jinyoung curled in his embrace, supple and glowing by dim lamplight, marked like this, and Jaebum suddenly feels afraid.

Jaebum had feared for his own safety countless times, but he'd never worried about losing someone else. People passed in and out of Jaebum's life like seasons. He was fond of Yugyeom and Youngjae to a degree, but he always knew they'd be fine without him.

And he wasn't worried for Jinyoung. But suddenly, he didn't want to lose him. And the thought, the  _ feeling,  _ the rawness of emotion that jolts through him is so startling and new, his breath catches.

Jaebum feels a cold, creeping panic in his throat. He clears it loudly, patting Jinyoung once more on the bottom before hastily clambering off the bed to redress.

“I need to check our bearings,” he says over his shoulder, and Jinyoung watches him in silence, tugging the sheets back over his body and tucking his chin into a pillow. He just watches, eyes deep and warm.

Jaebum’s throat feels swollen, anxious, itching with something he can’t name, and he’s grateful for the slap of fresh, salty air when he bursts back out onto the main deck. 

He finds Yugyeom at the helm and sags beside him for a moment, eying a compass in Yugyeom’s clutch.

“Looks like it'll be a clear night,” he sighs, and Yugyeom peeks at him curiously. Yugyeom has been by Jaebum’s side long enough to know when something weighs heavy on his mind.

“Should be less than another day after tonight,” he finally says. “Wind feels like it was sent for us.”

Jaebum nods, staring out at the horizon as he chews at his lip. “There’ll be greater boulders just before the bay,” he warns.

“They’re marked fairly well on the maps,” Yugyeom confirms. “I think if we follow the jut of the Bheir Islands a little more closely, they’ll pull us out to safer waters with plenty of time.”

Jaebum nods, breathing in deeply. His hand goes to his pocket, finding the smooth wood of his own old compass. He exhales as he tugs it out, staring fondly at its familiar cover.

“Are you going to miss him?” Yugyeom asks, and Jaebum barks out a sharp laugh, jamming his hand back into his pocket. His jaw goes tight as he looks away in frustration.

_ “That _ much?” Yugyeom comments, and Jaebum shoves limply at him without looking, barely catching his elbow.

“You make quite a pair. I still can’t believe you’re really bedding a  _ prince,” _ Yugyeom crows in spite of it, and Jaebum turns back to make sure his next light slap lands on his cheek. They’re silent for a moment longer.

“He wouldn’t make too bad of a pirate, either,” Yugyeom admits. “Did you see him stab that one Crank? Though I guess if you’re considered a pirate, the bar’s not too high.” And Jaebum checks his shoulder roughly.

“You’d let him stay,” Yugyeom continues, rubbing his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you? If he asked? We’d sail right by Avanth.”

“He’d never ask,” Jaebum says, lowly. “Not because he’s a prince. But because he’s a good person – he knows he’ll be doing something more worthwhile there.”

Yugyeom squints at him suspiciously, but remains quiet, hand steady on the wheel. “Is that why he’s going back? That sounds more like you, hyung,” he says.

And Jaebum sighs, staring back out at the water. 

 

//

 

Jinyoung emerges a while later after washing up, spotting Jaebum and Yugyeom at the helm. He holds his breath for a moment, fighting an urge to scurry below deck.

Instead, he approaches them quietly, watching Yugyeom’s easy navigation, a map tucked in his belt and a smile on his face. The younger boy glances slyly between he and Jaebum, and Jinyoung tries not to take it too seriously as Jaebum rolls his eyes.

“How long do you expect it to be?” Jinyoung asks.

“No more than another day,” Yugyeom assures him.

Jinyoung stares out at the dusky ambient light dancing across the water, the achingly familiar shoreline barely visible in the distance, and he sighs wistfully.

Jaebum visibly tenses in his peripheral vision, and he spots the captain digging into his pocket for his broken compass once again. Jinyoung tries not to look too interested, starts to turn back to the lovely twilight on the waves once more, but Jaebum’s sharp gasp stops him.

“What is it?” Jinyoung asks, as Yugyeom leans across his line of sight. There’s no immediate answer, so Jinyoung hurries around the front of the wheel to find the answer.

Jaebum’s compass needle has stopped. Lips clamped shut, fingers trembling as he clutches the old wooden case desperately tight, Jaebum stares down at it with a pale, grim face.

The arrow points South, and even as he slowly rotates himself to face different directions, the needle floats stubbornly still. Stubbornly, inexplicably, South.

Jaebum locks eyes with Jinyoung for a moment, and there's a brightness to them Jinyoung has never seen there before.

“Really, hyung?” Yugyeom yelps, as Jaebum clambers across the deck, frantically darting back and forth to try it from the bow, from perched in the rigging, from climbing up the mainmast. And everywhere he goes, the compass still points him in the same direction.

Jinyoung watches him with pouted, pursed lips, a frown settling deep between his brows and a tightness blossoming in his ribcage. His heart feels tied up, like it’s been wrapped with ribbon or rope, the pressure growing suddenly intense.

“I have to go,” Jaebum is saying, hands moving quickly and already trying to prepare the smaller sailboat they’d commandeered from the Cranks and rigged to the side of the ship. “I have to see where it goes,” he says, and Yugyeom flickers a glance at Jinyoung with wary, nervous eyes.

Jinyoung feels faint, like all his blood is pulsing heavy and deep in his chest, feels his fingers tingling painfully as Jaebum darts into his cabin and back out, tying on his effects.

“Captain, you can’t just…  _ go now,” _ Yugyeom says, softer now.

“When else can I?” Jaebum asks, in the middle of tugging on his coat. “When else have I ever had a path to follow?”

“What about returning the prince?” Yugyeom says, and some of the crew has come up from below deck, alarmed by the clatter of Jaebum’s footsteps.

“You can still manage that set-up. I’m leaving you in charge,” Jaebum says. “As my quartermaster.”

Beside Jinyoung, Yugyeom audibly gulps.

“You’re leaving Yugyeom in charge of  _ what?” _ Jackson barks.

“The ship,” Jaebum hisses, grabbing Peniel’s wrist and tugging him to the rigging. “Help me get this boat down. We’ve lost light but the moon is half full. I can sail closer to the shore in this and be in open water by daylight.”

_ “Why _ are you leaving the ship?” Jackson asks, watching in disbelief. “And I outrank Yugyeom – I’m a  _ real _ quartermaster.”

“On the  _ Monsta, _ maybe,” Jaebum counters. “But here, Jooheon left you to  _ surveil, _ remember? So you’ll continue to surveil, and I,” Jaebum flashes his faded old compass, “will find where this leads me.”

Jackson looks just as shocked as Jinyoung and the others, but he just shoots a pained glance at Youngjae beside him.

Youngjae looks unsure, but he stays silent, slinking away from Jackson’s elbow to dip below deck once more. 

Jinyoung glances around, unsure of where he can go – where he  _ ought _ to go. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and amplified by the rest of his confusion, Jinyoung feels seasick for the first time in his life.

He heads to the bow, watches the rhythm of the moonlight bouncing on the waves as the sky is painted darker, leaning against the railing and tries to think. What does this mean for his return? Jaebum may be considered incompetent, but is Yugyeom even willing? With Jaebum, he could count on appealing to a moral center – among other methods of leverage. But if Yugyeom were to change his mind about returning Jinyoung, what happens?

Jinyoung is mesmerized by the slap of water on the bow, doesn’t hear the footsteps leading up to him. There’s just a clutch at his elbow and he’s ripping away from it, nerves on edge and eyes blown wide with the dark. 

Jaebum is gazing across at him, quiet and still. “I wanted to wish you luck,” he says, voice stiff and formal.

Jinyoung stares at him in shock. “You're really just _going?_ ” He asks.

Jaebum has the grace to look mildly embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably in his long coat and tugging at a sleeve. “I have to,” he says. “I have to follow the compass.”

_ It’s enchanted, _ Jinyoung remembers how easily he’d said it before. And he’s reminded miserably of how that fortuneteller’s herbs had refused to ignite, back in Avanth. Magic doesn’t ever seem to be on his side.

“Where are you going?” Jinyoung asks, throat gone sore.

“You know what it means to me,” Jaebum says. “Home.”

Jinyoung cringes, eyes slipping shut with a soft sigh.

“You  _ told me I should,”  _ Jaebum says, voice finally wavering, face finally softer. “You said yourself it would show me where to go.”

“I–I didn’t know it would be  _ now!” _ Jinyoung sputters, eyes blown wide again. “Don’t you feel any–!” And he blinks rapidly now, looking aside to catch his breath.

Jaebum watches him with a frown. 

“Don’t you feel any… any sense of obligation, at least?” Jinyoung manages to say. “Don’t you think you should finish something you’ve set out to do? For once?”

Jinyoung can see, immediately, that his words have struck rather sharply, as Jaebum turns his face, as if he’s been physically hit. 

“And, and how do you know the compass isn’t just stuck on South, now?” Jinyoung rattles on, queasy but desperate to continue, gasping between words. “How will you know where to turn or where to stop?” 

Jaebum sighs, staring out at the water stubbornly. “This... is my path,” he says, knuckles turning white around the compass. “This is going to help me find where I really belong.” There's a note of bitterness in his words, the implication that he doesn't belong  _ here,  _ that his path as a pirate is strained because maybe he's not meant to be one at all.

“What about Youngjae? And Yugyeom?” Jinyoung asks. “Who’ve followed you this far? You’re just going to toss them aside and–?” 

“Is that who you’re asking about?” Jaebum cuts in, eyes finally raised to meet Jinyoung’s, narrow and dark.

Jinyoung breathes shakily inward, trying to calm the race of his heart, but it won’t slow down, and his stomach is churning, and Jaebum won’t just  _ listen  _ to him, and none of it makes any sense. 

“Are you asking me to stay,” Jaebum pushes quietly. “For my crew?”

And Jinyoung wants to scream, wants to say  _ no _ and shove his stupid grim face into the ocean. But he doesn’t say anything, the words evaporating as Jaebum’s eyes remain sharp and cool, like the edge of a blade. 

“You want to go home,” Jaebum suggests. “I understand that. And you will. Yugyeom will deliver you there, and everything will be fine.” 

But his words are little comfort, let alone convincing, and Jinyoung’s mouth runs dry as Jaebum awkwardly puts his hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder. It’s an unfamiliar touch: Jaebum had yanked him by his collar as a prisoner, and cradled his cheek when he’d given him freedom. This stiff greeting isn’t meant for people who’ve touched the way they have.

But it’s all he’s offering Jinyoung, and in that moment, the prince can’t find the strength to ask for more. 

Jaebum nods curtly before turning, hand falling away, and Jinyoung thinks frantically about grabbing his hand. Couldn't he find it in himself to just touch him one more time? But he can't. He could never ask to compete with Jaebum's last shred of family, Jaebum's own journey. It wouldn't be fair.

Arms locked at his sides, Jinyoung just watches.

There’s a buzz of activity, crewmembers rushing to help Jaebum prepare, provisions passed up from below deck and blankets brought out from his quarters. Eventually, Jinyoung watches in disbelief as the small sailboat is lowered and Jaebum begins to maneuver it on his own, and then a strong, certain gust is propelling him away. The moon is hung low and bright in the sky now, and it highlights Jaebum’s lonely little sail far out from the Nora’s side.

Jinyoung watches him go. He watches until he can’t see him any longer, fingernails dug into the wood of the railing.

On top of it all, he feels the soreness in his thighs more acutely now, exhausted from Jaebum bending them back over himself. Then comes a wave embarrassment as he remembers asking for Jaebum to finish inside of him, and he crumples to his knees, pressing his face between the posts of the railing. The connection that had felt so tangible then – literally hot and wet between them, strung pearly and glistening when Jaebum had slipped out – was gone now. And Jinyoung feels hollow, aching, discarded.

The ease with which they’d always spoken, their cooperation with disarming Changkyun, the heaps of familiar books spilling out of Jaebum’s bed; it’s all just echoes now, of a sentiment Jinyoung had not yet quite named.

It had felt close when he’d first woken up, Jaebum touching his fingers so gently. It had felt clear when Jaebum looked at him fondly, eyes like chocolate. Jinyoung had developed feelings. He had felt bright and warm and enveloped in sweetness with each kiss, but it had all been spun too delicate like sugar. And now, with one shift in the tide, it had melted away.

Jinyoung finally lets himself cry. His tears run hot, stinging down his cheeks and disappearing into the dark, sparkling ink of the water. And somehow all Jinyoung can think, desperately, is how little his tears matter. It's all just saltwater, in the sea.

He feels Youngjae drape a blanket over his shoulders after a while, and he lets the younger man interlace their fingers and help him up from the deck. Youngjae tugs him along gently, leading him back to the captain’s quarters.

It’s dark, disorganized from Jaebum’s hasty preparations, but the sheets on the bed look like they’ve been changed. Yugyeom is gazing at an atlas on the desk by the light of one lamp, and the whole scene feels foreign and strange. 

But Youngjae remains by his side, undressing him swiftly and tucking him into the bed, clambering in as well, without asking for permission.

“I’m supposed to be in charge,” Yugyeom whines, looking up from where he works. “That’s my bed now.”

“So get in it,” Youngjae grumbles into Jinyoung’s shoulder, scooting them closer to the wall.

Distantly, Jinyoung is a little surprised when Yugyeom agrees, extinguishing the lamp and pressing them all closer together a moment later. But in the dark, Jinyoung finds himself smiling slightly. His face is still wet with tears, and it’s almost too warm to breathe, but at least he’s not alone.

 

//


	10. Waterfall & Windfall

 

_ Bheir Shallows; _

Jinyoung wakes up to a loud bang, a soft curse, and a puddle of drool on his shoulder. Youngjae is still dozing, mouth open and breath hot against his arm, as Jinyoung peers across to see Yugyeom struggling to sit up where he’s fallen on the floor.

On further inspection, he finds the full lineup of ship cats in a row behind Youngjae, having apparently wedged Yugyeom closer to the edge throughout the night. Youngjae sneezes as he wakes, finding the cats and wailing in complaint.

“I’m allergic,” he pouts at Jinyoung, clambering over him to switch positions, but he’s sneezing again already and just sort of haplessly flops over his side.

Yugyeom looks disoriented, on the floor, glancing toward the bright, sunny windows with a pale face.

“Why are we heading East...?” Yugyeom mumbles, dragging his knuckles across a sleepy eyelid, before he fumbles to his feet in search of his pants. 

_ “East?” _ Jinyoung repeats, rolling a limp Youngjae down into his lap as he sits up in alarm. Avanth is in the West. If they’re going East, they’ve turned back toward Anduçal.

“Who would’ve–?” Youngjae mutters, and then goes tense against Jinyoung’s legs. Jinyoung looks down at his face, heart stuttering.

“Jackson,” Youngjae whispers, sitting up and looking sourly across at Yugyeom.

“Jackson?” Yugyeom repeats, tangled up in his suspenders, and the door slams open ominously.

As if summoned, Jackson strides into the room, a frown deeply etched into his handsome features.

“Did you change our direction?” Youngjae demands. Yugyeom still looks a step behind, glancing between them in bewilderment. 

“Look, I hope there’s no hard feelings,” Jackson says, voice too smooth. “Yugyeom did a swell job, for a couple of hours. I’m just a little more experienced, so I think it’s for the best if I took over.”

“You won’t convince the others,” Youngjae mumbles.

“But I already have,” Jackson says, eyebrows raised. “You’d be surprised how flexible people can be when promised actual payment.”

“What’s going on??” Yugyeom snaps, reaching for his effects where he’d draped them over his chair. His holsters come up empty, and he glares at Jackson in mute surprise for a moment.

“Right,” Jackson sighs. “I’ve hidden all of your weapons. That’s probably upsetting to you. But it’s better than being restrained, right? The holding cell got damaged during the last attack, anyhow.” 

He’s gliding back out onto the deck in the next instant, without a blink toward anyone’s stunned expressions, and then Yugyeom is scrambling after him.

Youngjae moves slower, and Jinyoung feels like he's left moving through a dark fog. He didn't cry for very long, the night before. But he already feels dried out, like a husk of himself. He's unsure how scared he ought to be, the threat of things not quite feeling real as long as he's still onboard the Nora. 

Youngjae looks upset, and he realizes the younger man must have known Jackson was inclined to do this. An irrational part of Jinyoung wants to demand an answer why he didn't say anything, didn't warn Jaebum or anyone else. But Jaebum had scurried away without taking anyone’s input, leaving little time for Youngjae to have said anything.

And more than that, Youngjae nearly reeks of disappointment. Jinyoung feels reluctantly understanding, having felt the strong sway of an emotional connection. Even in the face of blatantly dire circumstances, you still dare to imagine, chasing scattered prisms where light lets them fall.

Jinyoung follows along, and they find Yugyeom frowning at Jackson and Changkyun at the helm. Jackson looks up and smiles strangely in greeting as they approach.

“I was just telling Yugyeom here, he’s relieved of his duties. Changkyun will take over as next in command.”

Youngjae huffs, turning to stare out at the channel in frustration, arms crossed. Jackson turns the opposite way, eyes on the East. In between them, Yugyeom meets Jinyoung’s eyes, and he looks crushed.

It’s not long until Jackson perks up, sighing in satisfaction as he gazes through a spyglass at a dot in the distance. “One last day,” he whispers to himself.

Jinyoung feels faintly aware he must be talking about being reunited with Mark, but to him, the words sound like a prison sentence. One last day, Jinyoung thinks, of his own freedom. Before, he was dreading being returned to his mundane life. But now, fate would yank him down a darker path.

The intimidating ship on the horizon grows larger as they approach each other, until it finally dwarfs the Nora, a carved gargoyle perched menacingly at the bow and black sails billowing in the wind.

Jinyoung feels his stomach drop, thinking of the first few nights he'd spent when he’d first been taken, cold and alone in the dark holding cell. He’d thought nothing could be worse. 

But then he sees the faces of the men — Cranks without their usual facepaint. And somehow, they seem even more menacing. Faces naked and clear, eyes still full of malice.

 

//

 

Mark thinks about what Red Reaper told him, that fairy tales teach children lessons. And he realizes, they always feature a monster: a beast or villain so disfigured his evil seems comfortably far removed. And Reaper has done his best to become this — red hands and a dead, crusty eye worn proudly.

But he isn’t a monster, and this is the thought that chills Mark to his bones. Reaper is a man, like anyone else. It feels worse somehow, to know that men can choose to live this way as well, without any horns, without any fangs. Still stealing joy from others.

And that’s what’s happening – Mark sees Jackson’s bright face across the water as they approach, feels the warm, familiar weight of his gaze. And he knows, Reaper would pluck his eyes right out of his head on a whim.

Mark tries to swallow his despair, face blank as he stares across the water at Jackson, fingers curled into his coat. 

Jackson, to his credit, notices Mark’s bleak expression, and his foolish little smile fades.

Reaper gestures for his crew to extend a gangplank, as the ships are roped and braced against each other. 

“Showtime,” Reaper hums, gesturing for Mark to follow behind him as he crosses over. Mark stares down at the water beneath the plank, eyes wide and dizzy. He's still unused to being on a boat, unfamiliar with anywhere beyond the Parlours.

He places one foot slowly after the other, and nearly makes it across except for one unexpected crest of a wave that sends him stumbling, arms waving wide. Jackson is at the plank in an instant, gripping his hand and helping him onto the relatively more solid space of the Nora’s deck.

The world still seems to tumble, seems to swim, and Mark gazes stubbornly out at the horizon in hopes of centering himself. Jackson’s hand on his feels distant, like the brush of a breeze against his skin.

But once he’s collected himself, tugged away to wrap his arms across his body comfortingly, Jackson is still right there in front of him. And it’s so foreign, and thrilling, Mark feels vaguely nauseous.

“He still hasn’t gotten his sea legs yet,” Reaper simpers.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” Jackson says gently.

His eyes are too warm, too optimistic and out of place in this circumstance.

Reaper smiles across the deck then, eying Jinyoung and Youngjae where they’ve retreated by the captain’s cabin. “Which is the pretty little thing in question?” He hums. 

Neither Jinyoung nor Youngjae respond, and they look like they aren’t willing to part, so Reaper raps Mark at the wrist. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?” He says with a toothy smile. As if to say,  _ pick one out for yourself. _ “Bring him on over and introduce us.”

Letting his arms fall slowly, Mark glances at Jackson, but he doesn’t seem wary of it. So Mark approaches the others with hooded eyes, and firmly detangles Jinyoung from Youngjae’s clutches. He tugs him back to Jackson and Reaper, slipping his arms around his slim waist in a loose embrace.

Reaper breathes in deeply, and Mark know he’s pleased with how they look together. “He is a fine little trinket, isn’t he,” he says.

“Like a prince,” Mark whispers. Reaper doesn’t know about Jinyoung’s royal origins, and it’s probably better he isn’t prepared if the Avanth Navy does ever track him down. But Jinyoung gives the impression regardless, his good posture and soft skin appealing on its own.

“Let’s talk business,” Reaper says to Jackson. “Shall we?”

And Jackson bows shallowly, gesturing to a small table he’d set out on deck beforehand. As they move to settle around it, Mark pats Jinyoung on the head before stepping away.

“Just a moment. Youngjae,” he calls, waving a hand, ready to play his part. “Would you mind showing me where the kitchen is? Let’s prepare some tea, for the gentlemen.”

Youngjae frowns slightly, glancing at Jinyoung in concern. But Jinyoung nods, small and cautious. And Youngjae drifts uncertainly toward the hatch, beckoning for Mark to follow.

Below deck, he shows him the narrow kitchen, chasing Peniel and Eunkwang out of the area. “Everybody needs to stay out of the way,” Mark watches Youngjae speak to them firmly. “Regardless of what you agreed on with Jackson, I don’t care. I don’t want to see more people getting tangled up in this creepy meeting and getting hurt.”

They both look like they disagree, but slink away, Youngjae’s voice commanding when it needs to be. He slams a kettle on the old stovetop.

“Are you upset with me?” Mark asks, inspecting the small crock of tea leaves in the center of the table. He sniffs it and makes a funny face. 

Youngjae peers at him strangely. “About this?” He asks.

“For taking him away,” Mark says, eyes continually assessing.

Youngjae doesn’t seem sure if he means Jinyoung or maybe Jackson too. He looks suspicious about what's likely to happen. “Jinyoung hyung has a family,” he offers. “They’re looking for him.”

Mark knows Youngjae doesn’t mean for the words to hurt, and it’s a dull sting after all these years, the aching feeling of hollowness like when you lose a tooth or bite a hole in your lip. At first it’s so strange and painful you can’t even process the foreign shape of it, so noticeable it’s all you think about. But years removed, the scar is just another part of you. 

So as Youngjae prods him about family, it doesn’t make Mark cry. But the remark lands square, right where it should in his battered heart, and his lips set in a tight line as he crumbles the dry tea leaves into a neat pile.

“That’s good, though,” Mark says swiftly, once he trusts himself to speak again. “No one was left to look for me, or some of the other girls. That means there’s hope still.”

Youngjae stares at him glumly, and he shows him where the dishes are kept. The small space feels thick with silence.

“Where will you and Jackson hyung go, first?” He asks after a while, as Mark arranges the least chipped of their ceramic cups on a tray. “Once you’re free?”

Mark gazes across at him, wanting badly to say that he knows it won’t work. Knows Reaper won’t let him go after all. But he tamps the words down, fidgeting with the cups and frowning. “I don’t know,” he says instead. “I haven’t been anywhere but Anduçal.”

“I’ve heard if you go far up North,” Youngjae mumbles after a pause, “there are snowy mountains. Trees as tall as the sky and lots of deer and rabbits. Otters in rivers and things.”

“Is that where you’d want to go?” Mark wonders.

“It’s just something I’ve heard,” Youngjae says stiffly, as the water starts to boil.

“Let’s go there,” Mark says, deciding to indulge him, heart aching as he reaches out to clutch Youngjae’s sleeve. “Let’s all three go see it together. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

He tugs Youngjae towards him, until they’re very close and looking into each other’s eyes. Mark sees Youngjae’s gaze flicker unconsciously to his lips, and he licks them for him.

Youngjae flushes, looking back up to find Mark’s eyes glittering in invitation, and he tries to turn away. But Mark pouts, turning his cheek back with the soft press of a single finger, and Youngjae can only stare helplessly at his mouth once again.

Youngjae feels so freshly sweet, beaming with an earnestness Mark never sees anymore. He can’t help but want to indulge himself, dipping down to press their lips gently together.

But it hardly lasts a breath, Youngjae tugging away with a quiet, broken sound. He looks down at the hand on his arm, eyes glistening. “I don’t know how I could live with myself doing that,” he admits. “Enjoying ourselves after we’d just handed Jinyoung hyung over like this.”

Mark purses his lips tight and nods, fingers slipping off. He wishes he could reassure him, but he can’t bear to reassure himself.

Youngjae brings him the kettle wordlessly, and they finish preparing the tea.

 

//

 

“Thank you for being reasonable,” Jackson says to Reaper, gesturing with his tea. “Mark has always claimed you were a man of fairness.” He sits stiffly across from the older man, Changkyun silent by his side as he plays his given role as new first mate.

Mark’s eyes slide away from the conversation, the sticky, artificial feeling of Jackson’s praise rubbing strangely at him. He glances at Jinyoung instead, the prince sitting silent and stiff, hands folded in his lap and eyes on the ground. It seems like he already knows how to play demure, holding court not much different from Mark’s years of learning to placate the Reaper.

Jinyoung seems to feel his gaze, eyes flickering up to meet Mark’s with uncertainty.

Mark smiles at him as softly as he can manage, and Jinyoung bites into his plump bottom lip, looking away swiftly. Mark lets out a breath, disappointed. 

“Listen,” Reaper is saying, setting down his cup after a long draught. “I admire your forthcoming spirit,” he says to Jackson. “This exchange is something I’m sure you’ve worked hard to coordinate.”

Jackson nods firmly, eyes eager.

“But, really, the administrative damage it would do to me alone,” Reaper says with a chuckle, and a knot of tension settles heavy and quiet between them. “It just doesn't seem feasible.”

Jackson’s brow drops. “Excuse me?” He snaps.

“Well, my little ruby runs the Parlours. None of the other companions have that  _ managerial _ spirit,” Reaper hums, stroking his chin and looking contemplative. “I suppose you could argue, it’d all iron itself out. That this little cream puff could pick it up eventually.” He gestures vaguely at Jinyoung, who doesn’t look up, but scowls at his words.

“He does look, at least, bright,” Reaper says, enjoying the spark in his eyes. “But that’ll never match what I’ve built already, Jackson.”

Jackson looks indignant, cheeks flushing and nostrils flared wide, but he keeps himself reined in. “So, what exactly are you saying?” He asks.

“Well,” Reaper considers, crossing his arms and tapping a heavily jeweled finger. “I’d need a much higher price – or it just isn’t going to be worth it.”

_ “How much  _ higher?” Jackson grits out.

Mark’s stomach plummets as Reaper’s eyes flutter across the deck to where Youngjae and Yugyeom watch from the forecastle, sitting close and keeping quiet. “No,” Mark chokes out, just as Jackson’s breath hitches sharp, a step behind in understanding.

“No,” Jackson agrees. “I won’t bargain with you like this. You knew my terms before you joined us, and they won’t change. A life for a life, and no more than this.”

“You’re sure?” Reaper presses, a hand settling onto Mark’s knee. “You’d give up again, after getting this far?”

“I’m not  _ giving up,”  _ spits Jackson. “You’re backing out of our deal like a snake!”

“A shame,” Reaper says, getting to his feet and squeezing at the nape of Mark’s neck until he gathers himself and follows. 

“We could’ve made a real partnership out of this,” Reaper continues, “you seem to have a knack for finding pretty faces.”

“I’d never  _ partner _ with you,” Jackson says, scrambling up with Changkyun and following them as they head back to the plank, eyes on fire.

“Sure,” laughs Reaper, “you’d just make a deal with me once. I know your type of story well.”

Mark follows the older man swiftly, hoping this will be the end of things, hoping nothing else gets said.

But then Jackson is yanking his arm, and Mark can’t help the yelp of surprise as he’s spun back around at the edge of the ship, Reaper pausing with a boot up on the plank.

“You can’t do this,” Jackson growls, and Mark sees Changkyun tense at his side, reaching to his belt. “I won’t let you take him again.”

Jinyoung stays seated at the low table, eyes wobbling where they’re stubbornly fixed on the teaset.

“Take your hands off my property,” Red Reaper warns, but Jackson pulls out his pistol already, cocking it before he finishes speaking. 

Reluctant, Changkyun draws his own but keeps it low, blinking back and forth between the pirates with a nervous, calculating frown.

“He’s not your property,” Jackson says, hand steady as he aims at Reaper. “He’s a man. A person, not a gemstone. And he deserves to be free.”

“How moving, darling,” spits Reaper, good eye twitching as he grabs Mark’s other arm. “But he’s  _ not _ free. And he’ll never be if you don’t put that gun down.”

“Try me!” Jackson shouts, but Reaper snaps Mark in front of him, and Jackson's eyes blow wide and he angles his barrel away. In the same instant, Reaper drops a dagger from his sleeve and swipes it viciously across Jackson's knuckles, and his weapon fires off as it goes spinning out across the deck.

Jackson’s bullet dislodges a sail, which whips down loudly, uneven and swift, nearly sweeping Reaper and Mark off the plank. But Reaper is spindly and quick still, yanking Mark back by his armpits and across the narrow bridge back onto his own dark ship. His crew is swift to gather, clawing a wriggling Mark back to the captain's quarters and working to detach the two ships. 

Jackson has already clambered across the plank and manages to knock out a Crank as he barrels on board after them.

Changkyun hurries to follow, but the plank gets snatched back after Jackson heads into the fray. Changkyun stares down at the water in helpless frustration for a second.

Reaper barks a few orders, and Jackson finds himself barraged from all angles, fists flying.

Changkyun yanks hard on a rope to test the stability in its block, before swinging across to the other boat. He rolls to his feet and then pounces into the fight, shooting a few crew members before his weapon is wrested away.

Jinyoung remains frozen in place by the tea set, glancing down the length of the Nora, which suddenly feels very long. Youngjae and Yugyeom have stood up, Yugyeom scrambling down from the forecastle to assess the sudden scrimmage aboard the parallel ship.

With both Changkyun and Jackson off the Nora, and Yugyeom left weaponless, Jinyoung gets to his feet in a panic, intending to hurry to the hatch and call for more help.

The heavy slam of boots across the Nora’s deck paralyzes him, as two Cranks descend on him after mimicking Changkyun’s swing.

Jinyoung can hear Yugyeom and Youngjae shouting in protest, and the sound of more boots, and he tries to scratch wildly at his assailant’s arms, faces, eyes. But he can’t see anything, the pirates crowding in around him and yanking his ankles together and off the deck. Then there’s a dull, heavy pain, and his vision is flickering darker and darker as he realizes, faintly, that he’s been clubbed over the head. But the chaos is quieting, and the pain is numbing away, at least, and then he’s limp and everything is black.

 

//

 

_ Delph; _

Jaebum struggles with an oversized palm frond, tossing it across the small sailboat where he’s attempted to hide it along the rocky shore.

The Delph Islands have their share of public port available, but as Jaebum had approached he’d spotted a familiar ship – the Monsta. So Jooheon and his crew were somewhere about the small strip of islands, and Jaebum didn’t want to risk a run-in.

He wasn’t afraid of them, although distantly he was sure Jooheon would have something to say about him leaving the Nora in another man’s hands. But it would be an unnecessary complication, something he didn’t have time for if his compass stopped working again.

But the device was already giving him trouble as he’d investigated along the shore, swinging strangely large for such a short beach. He’d circled the archipelago before deciding to dock here again, and the compass had confirmed this was the destination, arrow pointing to the heart of the largest island. Jaebum’s chest had hammered, as this aligned with most of the charted points he’d made on his maps, besides some of its stranger readings from recently.

So he’d stowed the boat as well as he could, but now he realizes there won’t be enough branches scattered about to quite camouflage it. But at least Jooheon’s men wouldn’t recognize it as his own.

He decides to set out on foot, clutching a pack with his provisions and settling his hat low over his eyes. He’d hardly eaten at sea, still in too much of a startled daze at the discovery of his compass’s direction.

If he was honest with himself, it’s more than the compass driving him so mad, so doggedly away from the Nora. He had been eager for an excuse, any reason at all to not see the end of Prince Jinyoung’s story.

It was cowardice – plain and simple – that made it so easy to be firm with him, made the bleak embrace of the open sea seem so appealing in contrast to Jinyoung’s warmth. 

Jaebum wasn’t afraid of their reception in Avanth, of the consequences King Park might have in store regardless of his son’s healthy return. Rather, he was afraid of saying goodbye, afraid of his crew seeing him after Jinyoung had left him, afraid of the way his heart already ached.

And even this goodbye had been bad: awkward, stilted, a strange hand placed stiffly on Jinyoung’s shoulder. Worse, Jinyoung’s eyes wide with disbelief, accusing him of leaving another effort unsettled, and the way his hands had remained at his side, fingers curled bitterly into fists.

Jaebum hadn’t expected his blessing, even after he’d encouraged him previously, but he did think this parting would be easier than one made later. Instead, the awkwardness had blossomed into a dull pain, which ached throughout his journey, chest left tight even now.

Ultimately, Jaebum wasn’t sure of his feelings, wasn’t sure if they fit into the way other people talked about emotion. Jaebum wasn’t certain if love was something that happened to pirates, and certainly not with princes. Maybe it had just been lust driving their relationship – Jinyoung was undeniably sexy, especially when he was teasing Jaebum, flirting in earnest. 

But then Jaebum thinks of how gently he’d assured him of his mother’s presence in his life, the way he’d so naturally taken to all of his crew members like a little family. And it’s this knitting of relationships that scares him the most. Ties made too tight, too deep, are the kind that rip and can’t be mended.

But at least now he has a distraction in the palm of his hand, and he’s unraveled things neatly. Now, he’s searching for a home, a house, a hut, anything in the center of these dizzying signals. He can focus on this, instead of Jinyoung.

The sun is hanging low already, daylight dwindling as he’s circled the island, trying to avoid Jooheon and his crew in the thin jungles as best he could. As afternoon melts into evening, he decides to camp nearer to their main site, hoping he’ll hear their ruckus in the morning instead of being surprised later.

Occasionally, he picks up whispers about their search. It seems they’re after treasure, but someone’s lost a map. Jooheon doesn’t fail to bring it up at every possible moment, whining as always about bugs and the heat and now, someone’s incompetence. 

Finding treasure wouldn’t be terribly inconvenient, Jaebum considers, as he’s in the area anyway. But he has bigger questions weighing on his mind, as he attempts to drift off to sleep.

 

//

 

Jaebum dreams of white, of soft thighs, of his own cum dripping down to the hollow of pink knees.

He wakes gasping, pants soiled, and he curses softly. There's no relief from the release — he feels just as anxious and guilty as the day before. 

His first priority of the day will have to be washing up. He gathers his items together and pauses, listening to the soft hints of activity from Jooheon’s camp nearby.

Nothing sounds amiss, so he creeps away, remembering having spotted what looked like the start of a creek the day before. He’ll be able to rinse off there, especially if it gets deeper farther into the jungle.

Jaebum starts out on the hike, mind still preoccupied. He wonders how Jinyoung is. Has he been returned yet? Why is there a weight at the bottom of Jaebum’s gut, a shortness to his breath when he remembers Jinyoung’s eyes? 

The creek is easy to find, and easy to follow, and Jaebum finds himself journeying deeper into the jungle than he had first intended, unbothered by his overall grime as his mind is twisted with regret. He’s grateful for the white noise of water rushing over rocks. 

If he’d just stayed, what would have happened? If he had taken Jinyoung’s hand and asked him to come with him on this journey, would he have done it?

A crab skitters across his wandering path, and Jaebum comes to an abrupt stop. He lifts his gaze, and his breath is stolen away.

The foliage splits here very particularly, leaving an almost perfect triangular frame around a view of a pool and waterfall tucked discreetly away, a single palm tree growing in the center. The sound of water rushes dull around Jaebum, and his finger twitches toward his pocket.

Intrigued, Jaebum slips the compass out and peers down. The arrow doesn't even quiver with the sway of his hand — it points exactly at the waterfall. And as he steps to the side with a frown, the compass stays fixed on the waterfall and the tree branches shift to block his view. A shuffle to the other side and the branches obscure the framing again.

Centered with his compass once more, Jaebum gazes in curiosity at the waterfall. This doesn't make any sense, he thinks, what does an island lagoon have to do with home?

He shoves his effects aside and sets about washing up first instead, still sticky and newly sweaty from the walk.

He washes slowly, stomach flipping uncertainly. Why is he so anxious? It would take only a moment more of thorough inspection — and there's probably nothing here. Still, Jaebum's gut churns, as he runs wet fingers through his hair. Grimacing at the tangles he runs into, he considers — perhaps a duck under the waterfall would do it some good.

He wades over until his feet don't touch the bottom, swimming steadily to the roar and against the push of the rushing water.

For a moment there is only sound – the roar so loud it blocks every other sensation out of his reach. He stubbornly washes his hair as best he can, trying not to think of Jinyoung’s gentle fingers. He’s soon overwhelmed, the powerful pound of the water over his body, the burning in his lungs as he tries not to breathe in at the wrong angle, and the barrage of bittersweet recollections. He swims deeper forward, and punches through to the backside of the waterfall.

There’s a cool, dark outlet in the rocks here. Jaebum pulls himself up onto the edge, inspecting the shadowy area farthest in.

There’s a door.

It’s overgrown with mosses, vines and the like, but there’s a handle and what looks like a strange lock in the center, surrounded by stylized sun rays. Jaebum scrambles to his feet, nearly slipping on the wet rock, and he gapes in shock at the doorway. Flustered, he reaches out and tries to pull the door open, but it holds true, and the wood merely creaks with his effort.

Biting his lip, Jaebum stares at it and considers. Feebly, he knocks.

A moment passes without response – of course – and he turns away, face pink with embarrassment despite no one having seen it.

He huffs and blinks at the door again, fingers trailing down to touch the strange locking mechanism in the center. There’s a hollow here, a familiar size and shape beneath his touch. It feels like something he’s known.

The thought strikes Jaebum too quickly, too clearly for him to second-guess. The instinct that takes over as he pushes away from the door, the sparking of his nerves throughout his body inexplicable. He heads back out to his bag and rifles through it for his compass, blind to anything else.

As soon as he touches it, he knows it’ll fit. It’s the same. A smooth, wooden octagon, with similarly engraved detailing. He rushes back to the door and feels dizzy. Gasping for air as he leans against it, he realizes he’s been holding his breath since he’d grasped the compass.

Panting, Jaebum fits the compass’s case perfectly into the door’s indentation. When nothing happens, he examines the way the wooden rays neatly fit out from the center, and then traces back to try and turn the compass in the slot. After a slight struggle, one by one, the rays shift and slide in their grooves, and the wood groans. Once the compass completes its revolution, there’s a satisfying clank, and the door sighs open.

Jaebum stares at it in disbelief, mind racing. He yanks it open fully, staring numbly into the darkness there for a moment before rushing back to gather his things, find his flint and some branches for firelight. Then he’s exploring the room slowly, reverently, running his hands over the cool rock of the walls.

It’s a small cave, with just a cot, a desk and a trunk. But it was clearly someone’s home, if only for short periods of time. Had his mother known about this? Had she been here before? And why was he left with a way back to it?

On the desk he finds old papers – sheaves of faded, disorganized parchment with loopy, messy script. There are maps, routes through waters he’s well familiar with, and some he’s not. There are Navy certifications on a few of them, but they’re mostly unmarked. There are gorgeous, romantic sketches of a sprawling ranch in the midst of what looks like Delph’s scenery. Rough concepts and more detailed views, with wood motifs that echo the ones in the door and his compass.

Jaebum’s heart hammers in his chest.  _ Home,  _ he thinks.  _ A home that never happened. _

It’s not until he gets to the small chest that he finds out for certain. There are several small, well-worn journals. Jaebum rifles through them hastily, eyes burning as he reads the name at the front of each edition.  _ Lieutenant Im,  _ in the earliest scrawls. But when Jaebum finds what seems to be the last installment, it's just  _ Im, _ and his descriptions are more vivid, rambunctious — with no mentions of the Navy. His knees burn and he flops onto his bottom to read through one more thoroughly.

Jaebum learns, settling on the dirt floor with his father’s journal, that he’s the son of a pirate. 

The makeshift torch he’d placed in the center of the small space makes for poor lighting, somehow flickering too bright and dim and smoky all at once.

But Jaebum can't stop reading, at least not this last one, desperate and hungry for any mention of himself. Did his father know? That his son thought he was still in the Navy? Did he know about Jaebum at all?

He finds himself much later, towards the last sets of blank pages. 

 

_ He must be almost three now.  _

_ Wish I'd brought them with me here. Or wish I'd had the balls to just stay with them before. I know I've missed so much. I’ll see her next week before I head out again — going to give her my compass so she'll know I'll come back. Promised her we'd finally all be together, promised I'd change my course and get off this dark sea for them. _

_ I've saved up enough to do it now. I won't have to leave again after this. One more trip. _

 

Jaebum snaps the book shut and swallows the painful lump in his throat. Of course, his father hadn't come back. Of course, that one more trip had been his last.

Jaebum had always wondered — where did he belong? Had doubted his choices, had pulled away from his own crew. He'd even wondered, as a child, what if the compass led him to a castle? Maybe he was secretly something special. 

There was something secret here, Jaebum found. But it was nothing special. He was just another abandoned son, like Yugyeom and Youngjae and so many others before him. Left to find a new family and a new path, without any guidance.

And somehow, he'd managed to take the same steps as his father. His father sounded helpless in his entries, tossed about by the waves of time and suffocated by his own choices.  _ ‘Wish I’d had the balls,’ _ he'd said, about staying with his own child. 

Jaebum didn't want to relive his father's regrets. Didn't want to spiral into self pity, run away from his fears of losing people, and lock his feelings away in a cave. Every man sails his own course, on the same sea, his mother had said. So he had to find a better one than this.

Jaebum looks back inside the trunk, inspecting the inner edges, and finds a hidden latch. There's a false bottom that lifts away. 

He's embarrassed by how his breath hitches when he sees the tightly packed gold coin. There's a velvet pouch, as well, and he turns it out on the floor. He's unprepared for the reveal of dozens of diamonds, catching the firelight and reflecting across his stunned face. At once, he thinks absently of Jinyoung, wet skin sparkling by torchlight.

Dizzy, he scrapes them back into the bag, shoving it into a damp pocket of his pants. He packs the rest back into the trunk, including his father's maps and sketches, and then lugs it out to consolidate with his other effects.

He shuts the door, turns the compass until it clicks out cleanly, and he stares down at the little case in a daze.

_ What next?  _ He wonders, and he can't help but think of the conversation he'd had with Jackson. He'd rather have his loved ones with him, he thinks resolutely. Instead of locked away, even if it's somewhere safe. 

He has to return to his ship, to his crew, and — to Avanth. 

Resolutely, Jaebum starts the trek back to shore, trunk hiked over his shoulder. It's a strain, but he figures the effort is worth it, if it means finally bringing his crew something of real value.

But as he steps back onto the hot, white sands of the beaches, he finds himself stumbling out of the tree line and right into the midst of a crowd of intimidating men.

“No  _ shit,” _ Jooheon’s loud voice booms out, and the crew parts a bit between them. “Im Jaebum?? Am I in an alternate fucking universe here? Jaebum is on this godforsaken island, lugging around a treasure chest, when we couldn't even hold onto a map?” 

Jaebum lets the trunk settle in the sand and sits atop it with a heavy sigh, drawing his gun but holding it loose and uncocked in his lap.

“What’s in the trunk?” Jooheon demands, taking out his own pistol and waving it at Jaebum. “You know you owe me ten percent. Y’know what? Make it twenty, I'm not in a good mood today. I’ve got sand in places that would make you blush.”

“Our deal said you won’t get anymore than five,” Jaebum says smoothly. “But let’s talk about Changkyun, instead,” Jaebum says, smoothly, staring down the barrel of Jooheon’s gun and right into his eyes.

Jooheon’s cocky face falters, eyes melting with immediate concern. Even some of his crewmembers look at him in surprise and question.

Jooheon clears his throat and lowers his weapon, glancing around uncomfortably. “Men, how about you head back to the ship. Jaebum and I will discuss this on our own.”

“I can just knock him out and we can take the trunk, Jooheon,” says a large man with a confused expression.

“Go, Hyunwoo,” Jooheon waves him off. “We’re all well aware of your arms, thank you, but this situation requires a little more finesse.”

Hyunwoo lingers a beat longer, glaring meaningfully at Jaebum, before a slender man is tugging him away with a snicker.

Jaebum clears his throat and crosses his legs. 

“How do you know about Changkyun?” Jooheon demands, holstering his gun.

“He’s kind of pushy,” Jaebum says. “Nearly knocked out my ransom.”

“Ransom?” Jooheon repeats in surprise. “Holding somebody for ransom, and now you’re trouncing around with treasure. You’re really stepping up your pirate game all of a sudden, aren’t you?”

“He’s on the Nora,” Jaebum ignores the barb. “And I can return him safely to you. Or I can have him thrown overboard. Drop him off somewhere not so nice… etcetera. Lot of possibilities here.”

“Two percent,” Jooheon says with a grimace. “You give me two percent of what’s in that trunk, and I won’t even tell Jackson. But you know you can’t hurt Changkyun. He’s just a kid.” 

Jaebum raises his eyebrows. “I’ll give you three percent if you take me back to  _ the Nora _ ,” he says. “She’s probably in Avanth.  _ The Monsta _ will outsail what I came in by far, and then you can collect Changkyun directly.” 

Jooheon nods, extending a hand. “A pleasure doing business as always,” he says pluckily, mood shifting as easily as the breeze. “Isn’t friendship just grand?”

Jaebum rolls his eyes and gets to his feet.

Jooheon nearly pounces on the trunk, at first bewildered by the crammed, mundane contents. He glances up at Jaebum with narrow eyes.

“You think I’m some newborn dumbass, or what?” Jooheon asks, slipping his hand past the papers and finding the false bottom easily and starting to mutter in irritation. “You thought,  _ I’m going to act like there’s no coin in here, I’m the king of thieves!  _ Captain Jaebum, out here lying to me like he’s a real fuckin’ buccaneer.  _ What _ is happening in this world?” But he looks a tiny bit impressed.

Jaebum deflates slightly as he watches him count out his cut. He hadn’t thought  _ king of thieves, _ exactly. But he did feel, for the first time, quite comfortable as himself. 

He slips his hands into his pockets with a resigned sigh, and then freezes as his fingertips find velvet. He’d nearly forgotten about the diamonds. Turning to hide his smirk, Jaebum supposes he might make it as a real buccaneer after all.

 

//

 

_ Bay of Avanth; _

It’s been two days, Mark counts sourly, advancing intentionally slow towards Avanth and circling lazily around the bay in an effort he can only comprehend as specifically cruel to Jinyoung.

Red Reaper keeps them in his quarters, and rather than share the bed with them, he sleeps in an armchair beside the canopy bed, staring until he starts to snore. 

Jinyoung remains stiff and quiet, unresponsive to all of Reaper’s questions and comments, letting Mark tug him around and tuck him into bed beside him like a doll.

Reaper seems pleased nonetheless, watching them for hours at a time without any specific requests. Until tonight over dinner.

“I'd like a bit of a show,” he suggests, as evening falls.

Mark glances slowly at Jinyoung, uncertain of his reaction. Jinyoung blinks back at him in thinly veiled surprise.

“What sort of show?” Mark asks, turning back with what he hopes looks like interest.

“Nothing too choreographed like the girls at the Parlours, just something natural.” Reaper purrs. “Some soft little kisses with your pretty lips. Did you bring those stockings I like? What do you think about putting Jinyoung in them?”

“The white ones?” Mark asks.

“The white ones,” Reaper grins at Jinyoung, “with the garters.”

 

//

 

Below deck, in a cold cell, Jackson shakes his head as Changkyun hands him half of the stale bread they’d been given as a meal. 

“You should keep your energy up,” Changkyun mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.

“What for?” Jackson growls, arms crossed and slumping deeper into the corner. “Red Reaper will just be ripping us to bits once we’re on land.”

“Don’t you want your bits to look nice?” Changkyun says, pinching him in the side. Jackson doesn’t even slap him away. 

“Well,” the younger man sighs, swallowing another dry bite. “I just thought you might be interested in eating if you knew we could break out of this cell pretty easily.”

A beat passes, and then Jackson’s eyes snap over to him in the darkness. “What?”

“These segments are held together with half-pin barrel hinges,” Changkyun gestures at a corner. “Just needs the right leverage.”

“We’ve been held here for two days,” Jackson says, sitting up straight. “You waited two whole days to tell me you’re some kind of jailbreak guru?”

“I apprenticed with the local blacksmith for a while,” Changkyun says with a shrug. “I’m not a guru. I just have a particularly valuable set of skills. You should see what I can do with explosives. You’ll tell my brother all of this, right?”

“I can’t if we don’t get the off this ship, you dolt.” Jackson snaps.

Changkyun hums in consideration and nods, handing him the rest of the bread. Jackson rips into it with his teeth, glaring in disbelief.

The Crank assigned to check up on them passes by slowly, sharp sneering eyes scanning the cell suspiciously. He’s familiar, having tussled with them before on the Nora, now missing a hand.

“Nice stump,” Changkyun says rudely, and the Crank snarls and slams angrily against the heavy iron of the cell. Neither of the prisoners even flinch, attention instead fixed on where the hinges squeak promisingly, pins peeking out over the top.

Jackson tears his eyes away from them to nod subtly at Changkyun, who smiles back at him widely.

 

//

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Hope everyone's enjoying our summer of JJP. I can't stop replaying Verse2 it's so lovely...! 
> 
> This chapter shifted around a lot in its ordering - I kept wanting to break up Jaebum's time alone, but then I felt like it was jumping around too much in the timeline, so I left it as uninterrupted. Hope it doesn't feel too choppy. Getting closer to reunions and resolution, one piece at a time. Let me know what you think!!


	11. Run Aground

_ Bay of Avanth; _

Mark helps Jinyoung step into the stockings, snapping them to his garter belt using gentle fingers and no lingering touches. 

Jinyoung looks lovely, skin flushed and rosy in the white lace, stockings hugging him high around trim thighs. The belt portion cinches snug at the waist over soft, silky underwear, and he makes quite a vision — almost virginal. But Jinyoung's face is still stiff and detached. And it's all too bitterly familiar for Mark. 

It's the face of resignation he's seen on dozens of his companions, the ones with nothing left to try. No safety net, no family, just spiraling through life. They'll try to grasp onto any branch on the way down just to survive, after they’ve already been bruised and have trouble sleeping. Then they end up at the Parlours, and Mark dresses them up as best he can.

“Is it your first time?” Mark asks, clearing his throat and preparing to give him a usual list of tips.

There's a pause, as Jinyoung’s ears turn pink and he swallows heavily.

“No,” says Jinyoung firmly, still not looking at him, even as Mark slips him into a sheer robe and stays hovering by his shoulder in surprise.

Mark is confused, wonders if he'd read him wrong when Jaebum had brought him in before. But then, no — the way Jaebum had gripped his neck with a pale face, the way he'd never brought him back. Something warm shifts inside of Mark, thinking longingly of Jackson below deck.

Mark nods silently, stepping back and circling around him to survey his work.

“Charming,” Mark offers.

Jinyoung looks across at him finally, and his eyes are genuinely desperate. Pleading. 

And again, Mark feels the strange pull inside his chest, the tug of sympathy. And he wonders: what could he possibly do? He only has one idea, brewing since he'd sat very still in his room, pearls cast about him in chaos. And it's selfish. And vengeful. And it doesn't fix everything — they'd still be stranded at sea with more than a handful of hateful people.

But Jinyoung's eyes drop now, and Mark recognizes himself there, eyes downcast for far too long.

Mark reaches out with one hand, tipping Jinyoung's chin up. “Put your clothes back on,” he says with a thin smile. “Let’s prepare some tea first.”

Jinyoung looks confused, and he moves to untie a garter before Mark gently stops him. 

“Take off the robe but put the rest on over,” Mark says. “We can flash him a bit of the lace, and undressing sultry and slow will buy us more time.”

“More time for what?” Jinyoung asks, shimmying back into his breeches and frowning at how shiny and clean the women’s stockings look in comparison. It wasn't long ago this wouldn't have seemed strange to him, wearing finely brocaded suits, silken pants, and ruffled blouses tied off with ribbons. Jinyoung realizes, sadly, he was all too used to being dressed like a doll and paraded around for fantasy.

“Do you know much about plants?” Mark is asking, looking into a mirror at himself. He tugs the collar of his shirt down and slips his necklace out. The pale skin of his chest is mottled with a bit of redness, and Jinyoung steps forward to peer over his shoulder at the reflection. Mark lifts his gaze to lock with Jinyoung’s, and the pair make a striking image – two beautiful, joyless faces.

“No,” Jinyoung admits.

Mark nods, patting his shirt back in place. He stares into the pomander as he turns, and Jinyoung sees the little silver orb is stuffed with delicate, lacy white flowers and leaves, which have started to brown.

Jinyoung's breath hitches, eyes blown wide. He doesn’t recognize the plant, but he recognizes the insinuation.

Mark smiles soft and small between them, gesturing for the bathroom door and guiding him out by the small of his back.

Reaper looks up from his armchair with a slight frown when he notices they’re still fully dressed.

“It wouldn’t be much of a show without tea service,” Mark says, continuing to press Jinyoung firmly forward. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

Reaper lights up at this, sighing in satisfaction and wriggling into his cushions with an eager, toothy smile. Jinyoung swallows down his disgust and heads to the kitchen mutely.

 

//

 

_ Anduçal, two days before; _

“It’s against our protocol to sail a Navy vessel of this capacity into the Bheir Shallows,” Admiral Lee growls.  _ “The Winn _ is too broad, it’s unsafe.”

“You’ve said that twice,” Suga says, boredly. 

“Our  _ only lead _ just left that way,” J-Hope presses. “Following Reaper is our best bet at where the prince might be.”

BamBam tugs at the admiral’s sleeve, frowning. “I thought we agreed to trust them! If that's where my brother is, we've got to catch up.”

“I'm saying it's a physical impossibility in our ship, your highness,” Seunghoon says, teeth tightly grit.

“Then how about you and BamBam sail aboard  _ the Bulletproof?” _ Jungkook blurts out, even as Suga and J-Hope visibly roll their eyes sourly.

“You can send  _ the Winn _ around the other side of the Bheir Islands and we’ll all meet up in Avanth if nothing happens. But this way we can keep tabs on where that ship is going and whether or not there’s reason for you to make any arrests.” Jungkook proposes.

“Your men can order smaller ships sent through from Avanth if we don’t show up on the other side in time.  Or just for backup anyway,” BamBam perks up.

Seunghoon looks just as displeased at the prospect of stepping foot aboard a pirate ship, but once the prince speaks up he looks resigned to his fate.

“Fine,” the admiral spits out. “But I’m getting another medal for this.”

BamBam presses a hand to his heart and clucks as if offended. “Of course!” He cries out. “We all are!”

 

//

 

_ Bay of Avanth, at present; _

Jinyoung shivers, the breeze suddenly cold and the thin silk of the stockings doing nothing to protect against it. Something on the horizon glimmers.

Shaking his head to clear his mind of the distractions, he moves to follow Mark with the tray, but something tightens in his chest and he stops again. Waiting at the door to the captain’s quarters, Mark looks at him curiously.

Jinyoung looks, one more time, back toward the Bheir Shallows, and sees something wink in the distance again. “What’s shining there?” He whispers. He shields his eyes against the light, wondering if it’s a ship. Is it coming towards them or moving away? Why did it glimmer just so, when Jinyoung was looking? Will someone find them here? Could they send some sort of signal?

“One hope at a time,” Mark warns lowly, nodding at the handle.

Jinyoung nods, feeling dizzy with the rush of optimism, the slimmest of possibilities exploding into bright colors in his mind. He knows, for Mark it must be numbed now, so many years without a daydream. But Jinyoung is hopeful still, even as he sobers his expression and opens the door for him.

Mark glides in front of him with the tray, and Jinyoung follows.

Red Reaper sits with his hands steepled, watching silently as Mark sets out the drinks and offers him a cup. Reaper eyes it coolly and then shakes his head.  “Go ahead,” he urges, gesturing to the bed.

Mark turns back to Jinyoung with an apologetic expression, letting his head bow and then settling atop the mattress. He beckons with a palm up, still slow and deliberately patient through the tension of the moment.

Jinyoung eyes him nervously, lungs feeling tight and tongue pressing hard against the back of his teeth. He hadn’t expected Reaper to so coolly dismiss the tea, hadn’t expected him to rush them at all. But now the moment feels too real, and he’s hyperaware of every crease in Mark’s palm as he reaches out to take it, of every rise and fall of the other’s chest with his steady breath.

He stares miserably at Mark’s mouth, a lovely sight under different circumstances, but now overwhelmingly intimidating. Jinyoung settles beside him, uncomfortable.

Mark offers a gentle smile, almond eyes encouraging and warm, and slides another hand very slowly up his thigh. 

“You’ve got an awfully lovely face for a stowaway,” Mark says softly, dipping easily into a role. “You should see the way the captain looks at you.”

Jinyoung can’t find the energy within himself to play along at the moment, so he just stares: nostrils flared and lip curled uneasily.

“You look nervous,” Mark continues in that velvet tone, hand creeping up to Jinyoung’s face and cupping it. “Don’t worry: I’m very gentle. And the captain will be, too.”

Jinyoung’s stomach twists, feeling the heat of Reaper’s gaze on the side of his face.

“Won't you give me a kiss?” Mark whispers, tugging Jinyoung forward.

Jinyoung screws his eyes shut and angles his chin away from their audience, desperate to think of anything else. He feels the warm, soft puff of Mark’s breath across his lips, but he doesn’t think about it. He thinks of apple season in Avanth, of ocean spray at the bow of  _ the Nora, _ of the soft sheets in Jaebum’s bed.

There’s a sharp clap and they startle apart, eyes snapping open.

“Thank you for your efforts, my little ruby,” Reaper says with a grimace. “But it seems like our new little trinket isn’t much of an actor.”

Despite the strange circumstances, Jinyoung feels a hot spark of irritation at the words. 

“Don't look so offended,” Reaper says, standing and unbuttoning his cuffs, rucking his sleeves up. “We’d end up here, regardless.”

Mark glances nervously at Jinyoung, biting into his lip with sharp, anxious teeth.

Jinyoung scowls, and Reaper grabs his face with rough, calloused fingers, and presses him back against the bedspread.

Jinyoung can feel his teeth grinding, jaw setting hard and defiant in the Reaper’s grip, and a sense of claustrophobia sets in as the pirate leans over him, knee knocking between his own.

“Now I'm not going to ask,” Red Reaper says, smile toothy and haunting as ever. “I'm just going to take.”

Then he's lifting one of Jinyoug’s legs, fingers hooked under the hem at the knee of his breeches, and is deftly slicing through the fabric with a knife. The slit gapes open, sheer stockings on display, and the Reaper purrs in satisfaction, hand slipping in around Jinyoung’s thigh.

Jinyoung feels furious, humiliated, nauseous. There’s a frantic edge to his anger, thinking about how Mark had gallantly attempted to delay his exposure, had gone so far as to attempt to poison Red Reaper, knowing they’d still be in danger. All of that effort, and Reaper shoves away the tea and cuts his pants open? 

Jinyoung has grown weary of being thrown around. Ever since he let Namjoon shove him in a trunk, he’d woken up miles away from home and everyone had made a different plan for him. Even Jaebum, in the end, had hoped to send him home, and while it was well intended, he hadn’t bothered to consult Jinyoung.

And now, one more good intention foiled, and one more foul, crude attempt to stamp out Jinyoung’s spirit. He won’t go quietly. 

Jinyoung slams his hand into Reaper’s face, palm crushing into his nose and startling him backward. Jinyoung sits up and uses the moment of surprise to apply more force, digging his fingernails into Reaper’s skin, dragging across the lid of his good eye, and elbowing him in the gut.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Reaper is already off balance, so he topples backward and stares in stunned, mute rage for a moment. It’s a beat too long, and Jinyoung uses it to kick him in the jaw and scramble off the bed.

He darts for the door, tears welling in his eyes as he’s certain he’ll be caught and dragged back to this bitter end.

Instead he hears Mark’s voice gasping  _ Wait!  _ and a scuffling of limbs, a slap and a whimper. But Jinyoung is already through the door, tears running down his cheeks, thinking desperately if he survives the swim to shore, he will return with help for Mark.

 

//

 

There’s a flurry of hushed, straining panic on the deck when Jinyoung barrels out into the fresh air.

Crewmembers, faces dark and frowning, don’t even notice him as he stumbles out and slams the door behind him. They’re all focused on a ship fast approaching.

“Inform Reaper–!” Someone growls.

“He said not to be disturbed,” another man hisses back. “And we haven’t got time, they’re coming in too hot. Get men down to the cannons if we can, and everyone ready a weapon!”

Jinyoung feels invisible, and for the first time it’s not a relief. He stands frozen, eyes fixed on the peculiar ship as it swoops toward them, gut churning in confusion and the lingering adrenaline from his scrabble with the Reaper. He stands there in a daze, staring at the ship as it barrels forward.

The front of its hull is braced with metal, the bow extending sharply out to an extreme length, tipped sharp and menacing like an enormous lance. Jinyoung’s never seen anything like it – oxidizing slowly in coppery patches but still gleaming in parts, afternoon sun glinting off it like a beacon. Is this the light he’d seen in the distance earlier? His heart hammers in his chest, even as the pirates around him crow and jeer and then start to yelp in panic.

The ship is cutting through the water smoothly, cleanly, and then it’s not turning. It’s ramming into the stern of Red Reaper’s ship, metal slamming through the wood with a sickening crunch. Then suddenly everything is a mess, the ship keening wildly around with the impact and dangerously tipping. Jinyoung snaps back into awareness as he slips backward, gripping onto the railing and gasping as he feels the mist of waves at his back.

Across from them, the attacking ship rocks sickeningly too, but its crew looks staunchly positioned, unbothered, and Jinyoung watches an eye-patched man astride the rail lift a pistol. 

“Seems like you Cranks have had a good run,” he hollers with a grin. “But the tide’s turning!”

He shoots, and Jinyoung gasps as a Crank to his left hits the deck, dead. Jinyoung stumbles back toward the captain’s quarters, fingers gripping into a windowsill and easing himself around the corner to hide from the fray. 

The other men are swinging onto the Reaper’s ship, descending down on them with a cry, and then something explodes off the opposite side. They’ve fired the cannons, but it’s not at the first ship they’re entangling with, too close for it to be safe.

Jinyoung’s mind is racing, bewildered as he turns and spots another large ship approaching from the South. Reaper’s men have fired on it in advance, and he squints now and spots what might be rifles pointed from on board. 

The Cranks are being ambushed, but for what purpose? It could be coincidence, a completely arbitrary attempt – Jinyoung assumes pirates plunder and double-cross each other fairly regularly. But for several ships to coordinate, wouldn’t there need to be more to it? Something of particular value?

The approaching ship slows, looking more concerned with its safety than the first. 

There are more shouts, the sound of swords clashing, and Jinyoung picks out an authoritative voice.

_“Someone get down to the cannons – that’s_ the Monsta _out there! It’s better if we can get them closer, and be careful of any prisoners!”_

Jinyoung hesitates then, squinting out over the glimmering waters to the second ship.  _ The Monsta _ was Jooheon’s main ship. He’d heard about it briefly from the crew on  _ the Nora. _ But he wonders if Jooheon would be of any help, sourly reminded of Jackson’s coldhearted ambition. But thinking of Jackson reminds him of Changkyun, locked up together. Surely Jooheon would want to save his brother, so perhaps there is a positive side to their joining the scuffle.

Amidst the clamor, Jinyoung hears a thin call.

_ “Hyung!” _

And Jinyoung wonders, briefly, if he’s been shot. Is he dying? Is he hallucinating now, as he slips out of consciousness, that he can hear BamBam’s voice? Was it the thought of Changkyun, miserably demanding to find his own brother, that brought on this fantasy?

_ “Prince Jinyoung!” _ Another voice calls, and Jinyoung’s breath hitches hard in his chest.

Face flushed and eyes wild, he peeks around the corner of his hiding place to scan across the deck. There are brawling men scattered everywhere, but across it all, he spots him easily, on board the strange, braced ship.

BamBam leans precariously from the rigging, hand shielding over his eyes as he surveys the Reaper’s ship, and Jinyoung’s hearing seems to shut completely off, because he can see his lips forming the word  _ hyung, _ but he can’t believe it’s real, can’t hear it or the fighting. He can’t believe his brother is on another pirate ship, hanging over the railing like he’d done for adoring fans, and shouting for him. And then he sees Jungkook pale-faced and panicked, grabbing BamBam around the waist and pulling him away from the edge.

Jinyoung stumbles forward, opening his mouth to call out to them, but then Red Reaper is striding out of the captain’s quarters, blocking his line of sight. His good eye hones in on Jinyoung immediately, split lip bleeding into his teeth with a snarl, and he stalks toward him.

_ “BamBa–!” _ Jinyoung gasps, squealing into silence as Reaper’s hand goes to clutch at his throat. The boat rocks with another blast, and Jinyoung distantly realizes they must’ve fired another cannonball at  _ the Monsta. _

“Why are they calling for a  _ prince, _ little trinket?” Reaper hisses, bony fingers curling into his neck. “You must be worth more than I thought, hmm?”

Jinyoung’s hands come up to try and loosen the older man’s grip, but he goes limp with shock as a sword glints suddenly, drawn threateningly across Reaper’s own neck.

“Unhand him,” a sharp voice demands, and Jinyoung is shocked to find him wearing the high ranking uniform of the Avanthian Navy. The man’s eyes are narrow, the grasp on his sword steady and practiced.

Reaper shoves Jinyoung away, brandishing a short sword of his own from his belt and clattering into a duel with the Admiral.

“So you must be the prince,” a man with a pegleg rasps, casually fending off jabs from another Crank. Jinyoung is reluctant to answer, concerned about trusting another crew too easily, confused by the solitary military presence.

“Your brother is really something else,” the pirate laughs, and then disappears into the crowd.

Jinyoung’s heart clenches with urgency as he thinks of BamBam again, and he darts through the scrabbling pirates to the railing, leaning across to get a closer look at the adjacent ship. The inscription on the metal-tipped bow reads  _ the Bulletproof,  _ and Jinyoung finds that gives him some hope of BamBam’s safety, even as he can’t spot him any longer.

Beyond  _ the Bulletproof,  _ a third ship has approached, and Jinyoung’s heart shudders as he recognizes its patched sails, delicate woodworking, and the loud voices calling across three ships. It’s  _ the Nora II, _ and Jinyoung cries out, waving a hand in the air and hopes against hope it’s still manned by its crew.

A sweaty hand clasps around his mouth, muffling his words before he gets them out, and he’s jerked away from the edge.

Frustrated with being silenced again, so close to reaching out for help, Jinyoung grabs the hand and digs his teeth down hard into the flesh until he draws out the coppery tang of blood.

The arm yanks away with a growl and Jinyoung whirls around, spitting the foul taste into his face. As the Crank swipes his knotted sleeve across his face to reveal his sneer, Jinyoung’s heart shudders as he realizes it’s the one-handed man from  _ the Nora, _ who Changkyun had tossed overboard.

He holds a hatchet as he had before, the shine of it looking just as menacing. But this time, as he swings it down, Jinyoung feels a surge of energy, grits his teeth, and reaches out with both hands to stop the handle.

They struggle and sway for a moment, the Crank standing taller, broader, jaw tense. But he’s off-balance, still unused to relying on one hand, and Jinyoung manages to brace his arm in the air.

Jinyoung searches his face, stares into his cold, grimacing eyes, and tries desperately to strategize his next move. But all he can think is how much doesn’t want to die – not with the boys from  _ the Nora _ here, not with BamBam having left Avanth to find him.

The Crank elbows him in the face with his free, bandaged arm, and Jinyoung whimpers but keeps his feet and the hatchet in place. 

The pirate glares, and then he’s roaring and shoving, throwing his whole body weight forward. Jinyoung scrambles to redirect the energy, spinning them dizzily until the pirate manages to pin him against the railing. The wood digs into his back, but Jinyoung pants and tries to keep his arms up, muscles burning and aching with fatigue.

Desperate, he stamps the edge of his heel down onto one of the Crank’s feet, and while the larger man grunts, it presses Jinyoung farther off balance. Arms sore, he bends back as much as he can away from the axe’s blade, wondering if this is truly the end.

But then the Crank is coughing up blood, eyes glazing over in surprise.

And his hatchet becomes light in Jinyoung’s grip, slipping out of the pirate’s limp hands and sagging arms, as his body crumbles at Jinyoung’s feet.

The boat is starting to sink, tipping backward as it takes on more water from  _ the Bulletproof’s _ piercing impact. Jinyoung feels dizzy, breathless, and again he wonders if he’s gone delirious. Because before him, holding a familiar dagger made bloody and staring at him with gleaming, tender eyes, is Jaebum.

Jinyoung’s heart soars, the hair on his arms standing on end as the breeze whips ice cold around him, ears ringing. Jaebum’s teeth are peeking through, lips curling into an awkward smile that is absolutely out of place in the chaos all around them. But it’s a smile meant for Jinyoung, so he treasures it.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says softly, and Jinyoung doesn’t question how he can hear him over everything else, too grateful for the familiar sound of his voice. He nearly drops the hatchet, nearly crushes himself into his arms. 

But then he sees the Reaper darting toward them in his peripheral, sword preparing to slash down on Jaebum’s side, and Jinyoung darts forward. Heart pounding, he slams the axe into Reaper’s sword, the heavy clank of it reverberating through the bones at his wrists. But it feels satisfying, exhilarating, to step into the fray and to defend someone he cares about.

Jaebum is quick to snap to attention, quick to nudge Jinyoung out of the way and deflect Reaper’s next swipe as he’s drawn his own sword.

They engage roughly, and Jinyoung watches, nervous hands gripped tight on the hatchet just in case. The boat is still sinking, and he’s starting to wonder again about how far it is to shore. Pirates still scrimmage around them, but the numbers have thinned and Jinyoung’s seen several Cranks abandon ship.

Jaebum seems comfortable with a sword but not nearly as confident as Reaper – who lunges and strikes as if he means to amputate with each move. Jaebum fends him off for a while, even as Reaper shuffles him backward until his elbow hits the wall of the captain’s cabin, cornering him.

Then Reaper’s swiping upward, and Jaebum’s sword clatters away. Jinyoung’s heart catches in his throat and he even steps forward, but Jaebum is quick and in a blink has his dagger out to protect his throat. Stiffly he manages to hold off Reaper’s blade, but the older pirate still has him caged against the wall.

Jinyoung creeps quietly toward them, fingers flexing around the wood of the axe handle. But then Reaper’s eyes catch him, and he sneers brightly, as if excited to see Jinyoung approach.

“Is this trash really worth fighting for?” Reaper asks.

Jinyoung doesn’t have time to respond, as Jackson flips down from the forecastle at that moment, and slashes Reaper down his back. Reaper howls in pain, arching away from Jaebum and stumbling a bit to turn and face Jackson. 

Jaebum sags slightly against the wall in visible relief, scurrying away and placing himself in front of Jinyoung, sword recollected.

“This  _ nuisance _ again!” Reaper cries.

Jackson wiggles his free fingers in a mocking wave, body looking relaxed and natural even as he’s on guard.

Reaper lunges at him, but he’s clearly making smaller, tighter movements due to his injury. Jinyoung feels strangely optimistic, the weight of worry made lighter by Jackson’s slick, easy moves with a sword. The duel is well-matched, but only one of them is bleeding.

Jinyoung lets his fingers rest cautiously on Jaebum’s broad back, already itching to touch him again, to feel close to him, even in the midst of chaos. Jaebum’s free hand reaches back and pats him softly on the hip, and Jinyoung is embarrassed by how his breath hitches. Face prickling with a soft blush, Jinyoung turns, sees  _ the Nora _ has circled around and sent out a small boat. 

Jinyoung leaves Jaebum’s side for a moment, darts to the railing and feels his heart soar at the sight of Youngjae paddling closer. Jinyoung finally finds his voice, calling out to him with half a sob.

Youngjae looks just as excited to spot him, arms waving so broadly that he nearly knocks an oar into the water. Once he’s steadied again, he gestures for Jinyoung to jump.

Jinyoung bites his lip and turns back, reaching out for Jaebum but unsure if they should leave already. Mark is still somewhere on board. The ship is still slowly sinking, but if they don’t ensure the Reaper is out of the equation, Jinyoung doesn’t consider Mark safe. 

The clang of swords continues as Jinyoung tiptoes back, and Reaper is panting and spitting.

“You really think you’re a better person than me?” He goads Jackson. “You were ready to sell me any boy but yours.”

Jackson looks grim, doesn’t respond as he easily ducks a shaky thrust of his blade.

“Even you understand it,” Reaper huffs, parrying a moment too late and tripping backward dizzily. Jackson presses in closer than before, their swords crossing and locking for a moment. 

“Some people are just weak,” Reaper insists. “They need to be kept. That’s why you want to keep him, too.”

“You don’t know Mark at all,” Jackson hisses, shoving him slightly. Their swords waver, but neither gives way. “You don’t even call him by his name.”

Reaper smiles, lazy and wide, and then his arm moves sharply.

Jackson sags for a moment, and then stumbles back in a daze. He stares down and reveals a small knife, jammed into his gut.

Jinyoung can’t hold back his gasp as Jackson crumbles to his knees.

Reaper grins over at them, but approaches Jackson coolly first, movement less exhausted than before. He peers down at him with a falsely concessive pout.

“You win,” says Reaper. “You probably know him best. But I still own him.”

Jackson lifts his head slowly, glowering still.

Reaper chuckles in his face, but then he straightens suddenly, takes a jarring step back. His face sobers quickly, and Jinyoung crowds in close to Jaebum’s back again as they both try to assess what’s happening.

But it’s inexplicable for the moment, Reaper’s movements tensing and body growing stiff. His legs seem to falter under him like rubber, and he crumples back with a confused face, growing pale.

It’s not until vomit foams at his mouth that Jinyoung starts to understand what he’s seeing. Poisoning. He’d drank the tea, after all.

And on cue, Mark sweeps out of the captain’s quarters, delicate face soft and composed despite a fresh bruise, gazing down at a flashy looking pocket watch. He looks across at where Reaper flops, body paralyzing slowly and cursing.

“Right on time,” Mark sighs, bending over to survey the older man’s hateful expression, even as his facial muscles start to seize into place. Mark tucks the watch away, then swings his emptied pomander over Reaper’s face. His horrified eye follows it back and forth and then starts to twitch and slow its movement as well.

“I understand,” Mark says slowly, “I finally understand what you meant. About  _ quiet desperation _ being so beautiful.” And as the man finally ceases to move at all, eye glazing over, Mark nods. “Gorgeous,” he whispers.

Jinyoung lets out a soft noise of horror and admiration, and Mark turns then, spotting Jackson breathing slowly and holding a hand to his side.

Mark whirls out of his robe quickly, face caught between anger and despair as he kneels beside him and rips the fabric apart so he can wrap it around him.

“I should throw you to the sharks,” Mark hisses, “like you were so willing to surrender everyone else.”

Jackson nods, eyes wet and grateful as they stay locked on Mark’s face. “I love you,” he says quietly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mark says, touching the wound delicately before he winds the bandage around and starts to tie it off. 

“Youngjae is here,” Jinyoung blurts out to them, as Jaebum tests out a rope by the ship’s edge. “There’ll be room in the boat.”

Mark nods, rushing to tighten the substitute bandaging as best he can. Then he’s helping Jackson over to the edge with them. 

And Jinyoung thinks, as he precariously fumbles off of the rope’s end into the little boat and clambers into Youngjae’s gasping embrace, that he’s never felt more alive.

And it’s almost a peaceful moment once they’re all together, pushing away from the ship and toward where  _ the Nora  _ is anchored closer to shore.

 

But then there’s a thunderous noise, and Jinyoung turns back, in shock, to see the remaining Cranks have started to set off explosions on the sinking ship. Another massive boom, and the heart of the deteriorating vessel combusts, sending out a massive wave. And in the midst of the turbulence, their small boat capsizes into the cold water of the bay, and Jinyoung is flailing, freezing.

Above water, there’s only smoke, and below, only a frigid darkness Jinyoung can’t comprehend. Caught between them all in the shockwave and the tide, he gives up on keeping sight of the others, and tries to stay afloat.

 

//

 

_ Avanth; _

When Jinyoung opens his eyes, he’s washed up on the shore. Jaebum is coughing beside him, and they turn to each other in mute, exhausted surprise. Time and again, they find each other. Jaebum crawls over to him with the shy beginning of a smile.

Once he props himself on an elbow and gazes down at him, he finds Jinyoung's pants are ripped, cleanly slashed down one leg. They reveal a long peek of pearly skin in sheer, thigh-high stockings, held up by delicate straps. Jaebum stares at the garment with equal parts confusion and desire.

He wants to bite into the flesh there, wants to mark him up and swallow him down. Wants to put his hands all over him, wants to kiss his lips until they bruise and never let him go. 

Instead, he drags one shaking hand down the side of his body, staring down at him in wonder, mouth frozen agape and silent with shock. He wishes he could find the right words, say the right things – he’s sorry for leaving, and he wants Jinyoung to stay by his side. But he’s too overwhelmed, and his lips can’t even form a greeting.

Jinyoung gazes up at him with the same wide eyes he remembers from bed, from the tub, even from his dreams on Delph. And then all he can manage is to bend down and kiss him, press their lips together and hope his apology can be felt. His hand cradles the back of Jinyoung’s neck, and he feels the prince place his hands on his chest. 

Jaebum starts to draw back, expecting to be pushed away, but then Jinyoung's fingers fist in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, and his mouth opens wide and wet under his. Jinyoung's tongue licks up into his mouth, stretching to taste Jaebum’s own, and it's slick and soft. 

Jaebum wants to whine, wants to moan, and the sound starts to stir in his lungs, but instead he hears someone else shout, and something heavy slams into the back of his head. Jaebum rolls over and off Jinyoung as he finally groans — in pain.

“BamBam!” Jinyoung gasps, scrambling to his knees. “What are you doing?”

BamBam has found them on the beach, and he shakes the branch in his grip threateningly. “Regional martial arts,” he reminds Jinyoung. “Isn’t this one of your pirate kidnappers?”

_ Finding a large stick,  _ Jinyoung remembers Jungkook’s remark when they'd first set out on their adventure through town, at midsummer. He clucks at the flimsy joke once again, gently checking Jaebum's head for any bleeding.

“Yes,” Jinyoung admits quietly, and then huffs and shakes his head. “No! Not  _ really,”  _ he says. “He got stuck with me for a bit, but he wasn't—you can hardly call him a pirate.”

“I am  _ quite _ a pirate,” Jaebum protests, blinking as he sits up too quickly and then looks woozy and regretful. He half-glares up at BamBam sideways. “I'm dastardly,” he insists. 

“He named his ship after his cat,” Jinyoung counters. Jaebum’s narrowed eyes flick back at him, in surprised betrayal.

“He couldn't even manage to ask for my ransom, as you must have noticed, since you came looking for me,” Jinyoung adds, getting to his feet, frustration visibly mounting as if he’s starting to remember he’s upset with him. “Then he ran away a few days ago and left the crew in disarray, vulnerable to scheming Cranks.”

“I didn't  _ run away,” _ Jaebum says, floundering for a moment in the sand as he struggles to rise as well, watching disappointedly as Jinyoung floats closer to his brother.

Jinyoung takes the tree branch away from BamBam, tossing it aside and embracing him tightly. But when he pulls back, he still wears a resentful expression for Jaebum. “He's a good kisser, but a lousy captain,” he says, arms crossing.

BamBam looks flustered, lip curled and still on edge, but begrudgingly intrigued by Jinyoung’s frank admission. “No more kissing,” BamBam pronounces, wagging a finger at Jinyoung, who swats it away. “If your pirate lover abandons you at sea, you don’t kiss them again.”

Jaebum and Jinyoung both look vaguely embarrassed.

“A sound policy, your highness,” Jungkook offers, having slipped up beside them quietly. And Yugyeom has appeared awkwardly there to witness it as well, lips pressed tightly together to restrain a laugh.

Jaebum hits his arm anyway, jaw jutted out in irritation.

“What  _ happened?”  _ Jaebum snaps. “I leave you in charge for a few days and half our crew gets kidnapped??”

BamBam peers around Jungkook to inspect the newcomer with a curious expression.

Yugyeom’s smile fades as he heaves a sigh, hands flopping helplessly. “Jackson hid all of our weapons while we slept,” he says with a whine. “And the rest of the crew is so poor they flipped for the promise of more pay. They’ve gotta eat, you know.”

Jaebum glances down the length of the sandy shore, quickly spotting where Jackson and some of the others have washed up. He stares at him tensely, approaching with a glare. He feels the group trail along with him.

Youngjae is adjusting the wet bandaging around Jackson’s torso. When he seems satisfied with it, he draws back and abruptly slaps him. Jackson leans away, a hand to his red cheek, eyes watering as he stares at Youngjae’s sour expression. 

Mark kneels down and cradles Jackson’s stinging face with gentle hands, gazing into his eyes. “I’m sorry I drove you to this,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t run away with you sooner, when you’d begged a thousand times.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jackson says, frowning. “It’s never been your fault – any of this.” He turns back to Youngjae, and then looks beyond him at Jaebum and a sullen Jinyoung, in tatters.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Jackson admits, voice thick and trembling. “To all of you. And I don’t know if I can do it well, or make it sincere enough. I’ve spent most of my time avoiding sincerity. Because I don’t think life has been fair to me or Mark. So I’ve been a cheat and a thief, thinking if things aren’t fair, I can at least steal a sliver of something good for us.”

Jinyoung watches without a response, face blank and unexpectant, but he listens.

“But I realize – good doesn’t spring up from bad like that. If what I’m doing hurts innocent people, the good vanishes,” Jackson says. 

Jinyoung swallows heavily, eyes fluttering downward.

“It’s late for me to learn that lesson,” Jackson admits, glancing at Youngjae’s pinched expression, soft face pulled taut in frustration. “And it’s too late for me to make things right. But I am sorry.”

When he looks at Mark once more, he seems meek, usual gusto long abandoned. “Mark,” he sighs. “You should do whatever you want. Go where you need to go, with whomever you please. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” He turns away again, hanging his head low.

There’s a long pause, and Jinyoung takes a heavy breath before straightening. “Thank you,” he offers softly. “I accept your intentions and your apology, and I promise you I won’t dwell on it.”

Jaebum looks uneasy still, but doesn’t intrude. Jackson nods small and timid, curling in on himself further. Then Mark’s long fingers are dancing under his chin and tilting it up so they can lock eyes again.

“Jackson, you had already saved me,” he chokes out. “You saved me dozens of times, over and over, by visiting me and loving me and never giving up hope. Nothing else in my life was true, nothing else was alive, but you.”

Their eyes are shining with matched tears now, as Mark tugs him into his arms, so Jackson can lay his face on his chest, and they breathe into one another slowly, shakily.

“This will scar,” Mark says, solemnly, touching Jackson’s stomach. “And it’ll remind you not to make deals with a devil, because it always costs a soul.”

“I’ll never be able to make it up to you,” Jackson says, after a moment.

“It will just take time,” Mark says. “You can make it up to me and Youngjae, if you stay by our side. Listen to us. Love us.”

“It’s a life sentence,” Youngjae croaks out from the side, hastily dragging his sleeve across his eyes with a sniff.

Mark looks up from where his head lays atop Jackson’s and laughs through his tears, reaching out to squeeze the younger man’s fingers. Youngjae crumples beside them, head dipping to rest on Jackson’s thigh and hugging his leg with a pout.

They make a strange tableau, a sniffling mess, but it looks like family to Jinyoung. And then his heart shudders, as it dawns on him how close he is to home. He is in Avanth, BamBam breathing beside him. Eyes glazing over, he stumbles past them and strains his neck to stare up into the hills, at the castle he grew up in.

BamBam takes his hand a moment later, tugging toward where the Navy has assembled a group of escorts, and his brother nods towards them with finality.

Jinyoung’s heart rapidly sinks. What should be a moment of elation suddenly weighs heavy like lead in his gut. He looks over his shoulder, and Jaebum’s gaze is already on him.

Jaebum, who looks at him now with none of his usual guards up. Jaebum, who’d so readily fought off his attackers and patted his hip reassuringly. Who had run his fingers reverently up Jinyoung’s side in the sand, kissed him soulfully. Eyes gone molten and deep, he seems to be pleading silently for a moment alone. He even steps forward after Jinyoung, mouth opening and closing as if he’s struggling to get a word out.

BamBam turns with Jinyoung, and eyes the pirate suspiciously, looking down the length of his handsome nose as if he’s sniffing out his intentions. “My father will want to meet all of those who assisted Prince Jinyoung in some manner,” he pronounces. “I assure you I will vouch for not only your innocence and merit, but I insist upon a celebration. We will send an aide shortly with details, but you shouldn’t leave port. Admiral Lee’s men will make certain of it.”

He says the last with a broad gesture toward the rest of the pirates who have filtered into shore steadily from  _ the Nora, the Monsta _ and  _ the Bulletproof. _

The gathering crowds shift uneasily, Jooheon trading uneasy glances with Jackson. 

Jinyoung is certain they won’t all take BamBam up on his reassurances, and a part of him is dismayed at how swiftly it diffused Jaebum’s lingering face of yearning. He stares at the ground now, and Jinyoung studies the angles of his face for what might be the last time.

Then BamBam is literally yanking him back to attention, and they start off toward the castle, Jungkook and the admiral from earlier rushing to escort them.

They make it a few yards away, the din of pirates talking having faded to a soft murmur on the shore, and Jinyoung’s chest aches. He thinks of the misery of watching Jaebum’s sailboat disappear into the distance. Is that what his back looks like now, to Jaebum? Just a speck before he fades out of his life forever?

Jinyoung rips his hand out of BamBam’s, turning around with a determined huff.

And he finds Jaebum nearly crashing into him, having followed him certainly. 

“Captain,” Jinyoung chokes. 

“Listen!” Jaebum blurts out, face flushing. “I found–on my journey, I found… treasure.”

Jinyoung looks surprised, but unimpressed, lips snapping shut and his brows settling low and uneasy as he tilts his head in question.

Jaebum looks pained as he realizes how he’s said the most unimportant thing. He sucks in a sharp, frustrated breath. “I've learned — we need to talk?” He tries.

“Excuse me,” says BamBam lowly, appearing again at Jinyoung's elbow. “You know, our father, the  _ king of Avanth,  _ is very interested in seeing his firstborn son alive, and in one piece, and nowhere near a pirate captain.”

“We should… talk,” Jinyoung agrees but frowns, uncertain of Jaebum's intentions.

Jaebum suddenly, swiftly draws his dagger, still bloodied from battle, and offers him the handle. BamBam scowls down at it in disgust.

But Jinyoung looks down at it with a delighted smile, and takes it in hand, the weight a comfortingly familiar sensation.

“Our father,” BamBam reminds him dully.

Jinyoung nods curtly to Jaebum, but the blush at his cheeks gives him away, the warmth in his eyes downright foolish.

“The  _ king,” _ BamBam repeats, crisp and irritable, turning Jinyoung away by the sleeve of his shirt and looking at Jaebum piteously. “He can hang you,” he reminds him. “Maybe a smoldering reunion in front of all these soldiers isn’t the best idea.”

Jaebum finally nods in understanding, backing away with his bottom lip worried between his teeth.

But Jinyoung cradles the dirty dagger to his chest and beams, following BamBam with his heart hammering and skin flushed with the thrill of a silent promise.

 

//

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be seeing the boys at the Kcon concert in LA on Sunday!! I'm so excited, I've never seen them perform before and I'm holding out hope there's at least one JJP song. I really wanted to get this chapter out before then, but I hope it doesn't feel rushed.
> 
> There was one more big action scene here, and I hope it was coherent. This fic has really stretched my boundaries of what I'm comfortable writing haha. Idk if I'll ever attempt an adventure genre again... 
> 
> So everyone is safe now, but they still have to figure out what's next. Let me know what you think!!


	12. Port of Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! We are so close to wrapping things up, but it'll have to be one more chapter after this. I'm feeling so bittersweet about writing these last pieces, this fic has been such a growing experience for me and I'm so grateful to everybody who gave this a shot even thought it's kind of a silly premise that nobody asked for!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this installment and stick around for the finale next time! Let me know all of you wonderful thoughts and screams as always.

_ Avanth Palace; _

There's a rattle at Jinyoung's balcony door, and he sits up in alarm, flinging his blankets back.

The castle has been too quiet – too solid, no whisper of waves beyond the walls and no gentle rocking of the tide. His father had kissed his face gratefully, the queen had ordered him an afternoon of pampered baths and grooming, and BamBam had followed him around all evening with a wide, adoring smile.

But once he’d retired to his quarters, the guards taking up their post outside his heavy doors, Jinyoung had gazed out over the bay with an ache in his chest. And he had suddenly felt  _ so bored. _

Jinyoung had an entire library to himself, a room just off of his bedchambers with shelving to the ceiling, crammed full of adventures and dramas and poetry that used to keep his attention. But tonight he’d laid sullen and still in bed, recounting the past weeks and sighing like a dramatic teenager.

So when he hears a clatter, a sound that disturbs the sickly sweet silence of the castle, he springs from his bed and creeps toward it with more excitement than caution.

He scans his balcony through the windows suspiciously. It’s dark, and the space looks empty. But he hears a soft shuffle from the right, like a boot heel against the concrete, and his heartbeat picks up.

Jinyoung scurries to his ornate fireplace, arms himself with the poker, and dashes back to fling his balcony doors open. A twist of his foot and he’s rounded the corner, and is holding the barbed end to Jaebum’s throat.

Jaebum is pressed close to the wall, slightly out of breath and looking nearly cross-eyed at the poker. Jinyoung lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and lowers his weapon. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” Jaebum says dryly.

He doesn’t beckon, but Jaebum is already slipping past him and into his bedroom. Jinyoung glances around nervously as he locks the doors after him and draws the curtains with a snap.

“Did you not encounter any guards?” Jinyoung wonders, turning back to him in surprise. “What an enormous oversight. You could be here to kill me.” But he’s obviously trying to hide a pleased smile, a very tiny burst of pride.

“You had to let me in,” Jaebum points out, watching how Jinyoung flutters across the room – first to neatly return the poker to its place beside a magnificent fireplace, and then retreats toward his bed, adjusting his robe. He looks different in this context – delicate, a little more nervous.

“How did you know this was my room?” Jinyoung wonders, hands twisting anxiously in the robe’s belt. “Why did you come?”

“I saw you, staring out the window earlier. When I was… admittedly,  snooping around. And I figured, we need to talk anyway,” Jaebum says, taking a cautious step forward, eyes trying to decipher Jinyoung's expression. A beat passes between them, tension thick.

“We do,” Jinyoung says, more quietly as Jaebum draws nearer. 

“And I wanted to see you,” Jaebum admits, close enough to reach out and touch him now — but he keeps his hands at his sides.

Jinyoung wants desperately to agree, but he also wants to maintain a modicum of self control. Shouldn’t things be different here? Shouldn’t he feel more in control of himself? He nods silently.

Jaebum takes another step toward him, eyes hungrily roving over the shape of his shoulders in the thin robe.

“What did you find?” Jinyoung blurts out, hand suddenly darting to a post of his bedframe, as if needing something to support him. “Where did the compass lead you?”

Jaebum swallows, looking mildly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected them to really talk. “The compass!” He stammers. “It took me – I went south, to the Delph islands. Have you ever–?” 

And Jinyoung shakes his head, face dusting with pink, another hand going to grip his bedpost.

Jaebum waves it off, neck prickling with a strange sense of impatience, and rattles on. “There’s not much,” he says. “But there was, a cave, and some things–!” He suddenly snaps to attention, digging into the back of his belt, finds where he’s tucked one of his father’s diaries.

“My father used to stay there,” he says, thrusting the journal at Jinyoung, who’s pressed so shyly close to his bedpost it looks like he’s trying to hide. He blinks down at the book in alarm, and then finally reaches to take it, flipping through the faded pages in dizzy curiosity.

“He’d hidden some treasure there, but mostly, he’d hidden  _ himself _ there,” Jaebum says, raking a hand through his hair. “He was a pirate too, and all this time I thought, the Navy had taken him away – but it was him, all along.”

Jinyoung looks up from the diary, sees Jaebum’s eyes wavering as he recounts it.

“He didn’t understand, didn’t know how to stay with people, support people,” Jaebum says. “He kept writing in there how much he wanted to see me, and my mother. Why didn’t he write it to  _ us? _ If he really wanted to be with us, why wouldn’t he even try?”

Jinyoung’s lips part slowly, yearning blossoming in his chest. 

Jaebum sobers then, eyes locking with his and gently tugging Jinyoung’s wrist toward him, looping it around his neck. Then his fingers are slipping down the silk of his sleeve, and he wraps his own arms around his waist.

The diary drops to the floor as he tugs him away from the bedpost. And suddenly there's warmth, all down his front, as their bodies press together, and a full, unparalleled sense of wholeness in his chest.

And it's more than a physical reaction, although the drag of his fingers leaves a feverish wake down the side of Jinyoung's neck. It’s deeper even in the way Jinyoung's eyes flutter, their depths incomparably soft and fond without saying a word.

“If I asked you,” Jaebum says, voice thick. “Would you let me?”

Jinyoung's already tilting his chin toward him, face open like a flower to the sun.

“Let you what?” Jinyoung whispers, and Jaebum is already sighing against his lips. He’s kissing him slow and soft, dipping his tongue in to taste, to feel the way his curls up to meet him. Pliant, willing, and wanting. The way Jaebum loves him.

Jaebum draws back a bit, and the sound of their wet lips pulling apart is like a gun being cocked, heat pooling low in his belly instinctively.

“Would you let me take you away?” Jaebum asks.

Jinyoung looks up at him with glossy, confused eyes. A beat passes as he tries to process how serious Jaebum is being — is he speaking literally or sensually? Jinyoung still has a responsibility to his country, and an agreement with Anduçal. To leave would mean abandoning more than just his family.

“I—,” Jinyoung's voice wavers, fingers threading gently into the hair at the nape of Jaebum’s neck. “I  _ want  _ you to,” he says. “I want it so badly.”

Jaebum seems to understand — there’s an implied  _ but,  _ the distinction between want and need, desire and obligation. His face softens, lashes low over disappointed eyes.

“I want _ you,  _ so badly,” Jinyoung says instead, heart twisting painfully, wishing he could say something else. He grips harder into Jaebum's hair, yanks his face to his own. Jaebum kisses him through a shudder and a sigh, hands hot and firm on Jinyoung's hips as he follows him toward the bed.

Then they're toppling onto the crumpled bedspread as Jaebum yanks open the knot at Jinyoung's robe, eager to at least touch, at least indulge in his body one more time.

Jaebum keeps kissing him, even as both their eyes screw shut and the salt of someone's tears mixes with the taste of skin and tongues. Neither let it slow them down.

Jaebum nearly rips the silk of the robe trying to untangle it from Jinyoung's limbs, rucking his nightshirt up with one hand as he bends over him to take his cock into his mouth.

Jinyoung isn't hard yet, but Jaebum can feel him swell under the intense suction, and he breathes heavy and satisfied into the damp patch of his pubic hair.

As Jinyoung grows thick and hard in Jaebum's mouth, he lifts his hips to meet the dizzying pleasure of it, revels in the slick sounds of himself sliding in and out of Jaebum’s lips. 

It's unspeakably wet, spit pooling at the corner of Jaebum's mouth already. He gags a little with a particularly deep thrust, but he steadies Jinyoung’s hips with a hand, and drops his jaw to take him deeper again.

Jinyoung is overwhelmed — both with sensation and with the realization that he is in his own bed, with his pirate lover. And the juxtaposition of it all is certainly thrilling, the strange picture Jaebum makes in his immaculate bedroom: his hair unkempt and sweaty, a ripped, faded blue shirt hanging off his broad shoulders as he's bent over to devour Jinyoung. It’s deserving of a place among the dramas in Jinyoung’s library.

Jinyoung digs his nails into Jaebum’s scalp, grinds his hips into his face and whines, pleasure pitching high in the back of his throat.

Jaebum slurps off of him, saliva stringing thick from the flushed crown of his cock to his swollen lips, and he looks up with a smirk. “I think you should try to keep it down, your highness,” he purrs.

And Jinyoung is used to his teasing, used to the gently playful way Jaebum uses his title, but this feels filthy. His lips curl into a satisfied smile, eyes narrowing. “Get back to work, Captain,” he says, and Jaebum huffs a laugh into the soft flesh of his thigh. He scrapes his teeth there warningly.

But then he's licking his way back up his length, taking it in hand and suckling slowly along the shaft until Jinyoung nearly squeals in wriggling anticipation. Then he bears down on the tip once more, lips sliding over the sensitive skin there, tongue dipping to cleave open his slit with a sigh.

Jinyoung really does squeal then, gasping and shuddering at the intensity of it. And it's almost a relief for Jaebum to envelop the rest of him again, to feel the warm tension as he swallows around him.

But it's all too much already, and he's panting and writhing as Jaebum starts to bob his head.

Jaebum is too good at this, Jinyoung thinks in a daze — what is this man doing wasting his talents alone on an open sea? “Wait I’m,” Jinyoung gasps,  _ “wait!” _

Jaebum draws off again with a smile, watching his wet cock twitch and pulse, dribbling already in excitement. He leaves his hand at the base, firm against the warm dip of Jinyoung's pelvis.

“Do you have any oils?” Jaebum murmurs, another hand sliding down the length of his slack thigh, tugging it up by the knee and spreading Jinyoung open for his appreciative eyes.

Jinyoung whimpers, embarrassed but eager still. He nods shakily, gesturing to the chifferobe a few paces from the bed. “The second drawer,” he says. “Under the winter gloves.”

Jaebum squeezes him once more before slipping away for a moment, and he unbuckles and discards his own breeches as he moves, swiftly shucking his shirt as well. He paws quickly through the second drawer, finding the little flask quickly beneath buttery leather and mink trims, and he lets his fingers briefly drag through the fine fabrics, the array of textures he didn't know existed.

“Did you keep those stockings?” Jaebum asks playfully, opening another drawer and snickering at the array of fanciful bow ties, sashes and ribbons he finds. “With that garter belt?”

When he turns back toward the bed, Jinyoung still looks prettily flushed, but his smile has faded. 

“Reaper asked to put me in those,” he says, voice low. “I had the maids throw them out.” 

Jaebum comes back to bed, clambering over him and taking his face in his hands, his teasing smile chased away and kissing him tender and slow. “I'm sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry for ever considering giving you over to him. And I’m sorry I left, without making sure you were safe.”

Jinyoung kisses back, and he easily shifts back into a pout. “You  _ had _ to go,” he says. “Didn’t you?”

“I won’t leave without you again,” Jaebum says quietly, and he kisses Jinyoung once more, chastely, before ducking back down to grasp Jinyoung’s length again, mouthing at the head and playing with the tight ring of his lips. He dips on and off with a pop, stroking firmly and gazing up at Jinyoung with unabashedly adoring eyes.

Jinyoung still mewls like he’s on the edge, every velvety rub of Jaebum’s pretty cupid bow across his crown feeling like it will push him over. But then Jaebum is curling his fingers tight, tighter, impossibly snug at the base of his shaft. Jinyoung gasps, blinking down in surprise to find Jaebum wrapping a ribbon once, twice around the base, and tying it off in a sloppy bow that makes him choke out half of a breathless laugh.

“It’s too,” Jinyoung pants out, eyes widening as he watches his cock start to swell and stiffen, its pretty pink flush deepening under the straining ties. “It’s too tight,” he whines, arching his back into his mattress and pressing his hips into the air like a gift impatient to be unwrapped.

Jaebum merely hums in reply, unscrewing the vial of oil and drizzling some generously over his fingertips. The excess runs off and drips cold onto Jinyoung’s thighs, and he cries out as Jaebum nudges his legs further apart. 

“Did you touch yourself often, with this?” Jaebum wonders, two fingers curled ready at Jinyoung’s entrance, pressure even and gentle, rocking in a circular rhythm that makes it easy for him to relax.

Jinyoung shakes his head, eyes fluttering shut at the familiar touch, chest hitching before he manages to find his voice again. “I only used it recently,” he says, looking embarrassed. “Everyone kept teasing about my wedding night, and I’d never even tried anything. I didn’t want to seem so unprepared,” and he lets out a low moan, as Jaebum’s fingers finally slip into him one after the other, slick and soft.

Jaebum leans beside him as he listens, doesn’t interrupt even as he starts to work him open with his fingers.  

“I thought I’d be such a disappointment,” Jinyoung gasps after a moment, tension ebbing as Jaebum crowds closer to his face, noses nudging. “At all of it: meeting him, bedding him, and ruling people I have no connection with. I couldn’t control most of those things, but maybe I could make myself more desirable—!”

He cries out then, as Jaebum's fingers curl inside him, knuckles dragging against his ridges, slick and almost lazy in their exploration. Jaebum kisses him, swallowing the surprised sound and lathing his tongue across his lips, indulging in the taste of his moan. 

“You have always been,” Jaebum whispers against his mouth, “more than desirable from the first time I saw you.” He punctuates this with a twist of his fingers inside him, starting to scissor in time with Jinyoung's gasps for breath. “And then all I could think about was bedding you – until I did.”

Jinyoung’s eyes dart up to his face in confusion, and it’s a strange wave of sensations that wash over him as Jaebum’s fingers still undulate inside of him. Combined with the wet sound of his body opening up, his mind somehow feels frozen in question, as this sounds almost like a rejection.

“Then,” Jaebum murmurs, as he strokes gently in and out of Jinyoung, “all I could think about was how scared I was, of you leaving. Of having to give you back.”

Jinyoung’s breath stutters, watching Jaebum as he slicks up his own length, kneeling between Jinyoung’s legs and positioning his cock where his fingers slowly slip out of him. And Jinyoung moans, head rolling back and drawing his knees back against his chest eagerly. The sudden emptiness inside him combined with his still achingly hard, abandoned dick is too much – his arousal borders on desperation now, as Jaebum whispers sweet things and takes too long to touch him.

Jaebum hushes him softly, knocking a wandering hand away as Jinyoung tries to touch himself. Jaebum hooks the prince’s ankles over his shoulders as he starts to ease into him, slow and steady.

_ “More,” _ Jinyoung whines, but Jaebum keeps his pace slow, watching as inch after inch disappears into Jinyoung, entrance stretched wide and pink around his thick cock, throbbing in time with Jinyoung’s soft pleas.

“Please, please,” Jinyoung begs, as Jaebum bottoms out and stills, bending down to press their foreheads together. 

“I know,” says Jaebum softly, “I’m going to give you what you need. But you’ve got to let it build a little more. Just a little more, baby.”

Jinyoung loops his arms around his neck with another long, drawn out whine. Fingers tangling back into Jaebum’s damp hair, he holds on and prays for friction, slide, release. Anything.

Jaebum nuzzles soft at his jawline, lips ghosting over the skin there as he draws his hips back. He can feel Jinyoung’s pulse as it flutters in anticipation, can hear the hitch of breath in his throat as he nearly chokes on his own spit in excitement. Then he snaps forward again, thrusting deep into Jinyoung’s heat, and the prince wails.

“Feels good,” Jaebum whispers into his neck. “You feel so good.”

Jinyoung can’t seem to find words any longer, mumbling agreement and rocking his hips forward to meet him, and then they set a bruising, sloppy rhythm.

Jaebum slams into him, and the slapping of their thighs echoes loudly through Jinyoung’s bedchambers, pounding out a lewd staccato. Jinyoung softly groans with each thrust, the blunt force of Jaebum’s fat dick against his prostate too intense to keep quiet about. The rub of his own red cock curled against his stomach continually draws out his pleasure, edging him closer even as the ribbon holds him back. 

Jaebum gazes down at him, face glowing with sweat as he drives into him, finally reaching out to trace his thumb over Jinyoung’s slit, and Jinyoung shudders and digs his nails into his neck, eyes nearly crossing.

_ “Please,”  _ Jinyoung begs, and Jaebum cracks a sideways smile, sliding his hand down to where the satin bow sits pretty in Jinyoung’s dark curls. He wraps his hand around him, strokes upward to match another flick of his own hips, and then lets go.

Jinyoung curses silently then, breath knocked out of him with pleasure, eyes screwing shut as bright spots appear across his vision. “Let me,” he whispers, as Jaebum bucks into him one more time.

Jinyoung’s back bows up off the bed, clawing into Jaebum’s back as he tenses – and a ripple of ecstasy rocks through him – but there’s still no release. He still feels like he’s teetering over a cliff, still feels the tightness in his groin where he’d normally feel the exhilarating relief, the soaring swoop of an orgasm.

Instead, Jaebum’s ribbon stays tied tight, and he presses Jinyoung back to the bed with bright, fascinated eyes as he circles his hips tight and small, grinding his cock into him still. 

“Just a little longer,” Jaebum says softly, “you can wait just a little more.”

Jinyoung starts to frown, but then his head is tipping away as another wave of pleasure shudders through his body, and then he’s back at the brink again, sobbing out a grunt as Jaebum slams their hips together.

_ “Why?” _ Jinyoung manages a hoarse whisper.

“I want you to feel, the way you make me feel,” Jaebum says, ducking to say it into his ear. He takes his time with this as well, tongue flicking at Jinyoung’s lobe. “Wound up tight, so close to heaven. But still so far,” he says. “Still not allowed to have you, still not able to make you mine.”

Jinyoung cries in earnest now, voice breaking with another thrust, and tears start to trace down his cheeks. Jaebum shushes him, kissing the salty tracks away tenderly. “You’re doing well,” he says, as his hand curls around Jinyoung’s aching cock again.

“I want to be yours, too,” Jinyoung insists. “You must know I already am.”

And Jaebum smiles, pressing their lips together as he tugs at an end of the ribbon, the knot giving way. He tugs the loops loose and neatly strokes up Jinyoung’s length. It’s gone almost purple with the pressure now, and with his thumb slipping over the crown and another purposeful grind of his hips at a tilt, Jinyoung finally comes.

The bliss is all white, and Jinyoung feels almost nothing for a moment, until then he feels  _ everything, _ and so vividly, so sharply. He’s hurtling over the edge, the primal satisfaction as his cum spurts between them only a fraction of the relief he feels. Deep within, the explosion of sensation, the break of tension, the way he can feel every inch of Jaebum as he grinds against every specific ridge of his insides, the way his lungs seem to rush full of thick, sweet air. Then all he can sense is Jaebum – the smell of his body, the feel of his thumbs at his hipbones, and each tender grunt.

Jaebum is still slickly thrusting into him, faster now as he watches Jinyoung reveling in wonder, watches the last drops of cum frost down over his knuckles, still tangled up with the ribbon. And then he’s coming too, hips going off rhythm as he tenses, every muscle taut with reaction. And he grunts as he fills Jinyoung up, hand yanking his hips tight into his own where they’re coupled, so every last pulse stays within until the heat and the stimulation is too much.

Then he slips out of him, panting, and stares down at him. Jinyoung is a mess – hair tousled and dripping wet with sweat, skin littered with red marks, stomach covered in his own spunk and still tangled in a spoilt ribbon.

Jaebum has never seen anything more satisfying, has never felt so pleased and well wrung in his entire life. He collapses beside him, rolling them onto their sides so his knees can come up behind Jinyoung’s, so his face can fit neatly into Jinyoung’s damp neck and smell the musk of exhaustion there.

Jinyoung is slow to recover, but his breaths eventually grow deeper, and his body slackens again, melting into Jaebum’s awaiting embrace. 

Silence envelops them for a while, Jaebum’s hands the only sound in the room as they sigh across Jinyoung’s skin, stroking and massaging him into a warm, barely lucid state.

“What if I bought you new stockings?” Jaebum says in his ear, half expecting Jinyoung to be asleep already and miss the comment.

“You can’t even feed your crew,” Jinyoung replies a moment later, though his voice is heavy and hoarse. “What sort of cruel captain would shower their first mate with presents while the crew starves?”

A beat passes as they both process what he’s said, and Jinyoung’s arms tense under Jaebum’s touch again. He hadn’t realized how deep the thought had been inside him, the desire so well planted that it had blossomed into words without him realizing.

Jaebum trails a hand down his tensed arm, tracing the path of Jinyoung’s pulsing veins to his nervously clenched fist, curls it open and interlaces their fingers. With a soft squeeze, nothing else needs to be said. They’re on the same page. They want the same thing.

“I said I found treasure, remember?” Jaebum moves on, purposely. 

“I thought you were talking about your father’s diaries,” Jinyoung says, clearing his throat. “I didn’t think it was literal.”

“It was with them. There was quite a bit of gold, and even diamonds,” Jaebum says. “Would you like that? A diamond?”

“I’m still not sure if you understand what being a prince is like,” Jinyoung snarks, even as his voice fades farther away. “I’ve had plenty of diamonds in my life. You should see my crown.”

“What about one for  _ here?” _ Jaebum murmurs, hand sneaking up to pinch a nipple. 

Jinyoung squawks, attempting to wriggle away. Jaebum chuckles and just holds him closer, and the rumble low against Jinyoung’s back leaves him feeling warm and satisfied, beyond the sticky fullness of their earlier exploits.

 

//

 

In the morning, Jinyoung’s curtains are flicked open abruptly, morning light flooding the room and disturbing their quiet slumber.

“Oh, my god,” BamBam gasps. “Jungkook, am I still asleep? Is this a nightmare?”

“We’re both awake,” Jungkook says, shaking his head and gaping at the scene before them. “As far as I can tell.”

Jinyoung shifts with a quiet noise, before stiffening and yanking his sheets farther up over his body, blinking slowly as he notices the younger men. “What are you doing in here?” He demands, in spite of his groggy voice.

“I told Sungjin we’d wake you instead,” BamBam says, hands going to his hips and eyes sparking. “And frankly, you should be grateful it’s just us – anyone else would’ve had this scoundrel sliced and diced without asking questions.”

Jinyoung starts to sit up then, looking down at Jaebum’s confused, slightly swollen morning face as he squints one eye open. “I doubt anyone would find this man particularly threatening,” Jinyoung says, dryly.

“How did he even get in here?” BamBam demands. “Did he really climb up your balcony? Do we not employ any guards for the gardens? This is a huge oversight–!”

“You have too many gardens,” Jaebum says, voice still thick with sleep as he rolls onto his back. “And your guards patrol them in predictable shifts and repeated routes. There are just too many for them to cover. I don’t see why you need all those topiaries, for instance.”

BamBam scoffs. “Uh, the gardens are for  _ strolling,  _ seaweed head,” he says sharply. “I can see you’ve never even imagined life at court – some of our biggest policy decisions are made taking a turn in those gardens.”

“Big decisions about topiaries, I’d imagine,” Jaebum murmurs, sitting up with the start of a frown.

“Try last night’s: what should we do with all the pirates in our port, right now?” BamBam counters. “Should we just firebomb all their ships in the middle of the night? And what will become of our trade deal with Anduçal, now that Jinyoung has returned but is unwilling to follow through?”

Jaebum and Jinyoung both seem to startle fully awake at this, Jaebum darting out of the bed, clumsily tugging on his discarded pants, and crossing to the balcony window. He desperately scans the bay until he spots  _ the Nora’s _ patched sails in the distance. He lets out a short, irritated puff of relief.

In the meantime, Jinyoung turns to BamBam with wide, nervous eyes. “Does father already know?” He asks. “That I’ve been having second thoughts?”

BamBam’s face softens, recognizing the tone as sincere. “Of course not,” he says, more gently. “But your brother’s beginning to suspect, since you suddenly can’t bear to spend a night away from this scruffy fellow.”

Jaebum turns back to gaze at Jinyoung with an equally guilty face, and they look at one another in silent, begrudging agreement another moment longer. Jinyoung finally clears his throat. “Please give us another moment alone,” he says. 

BamBam nods slowly, but lingers a beat longer even though Jungkook moves to hold the door for him. He looks across at Jaebum again, lips pouted sour and disapproving.

“There will be a banquet tonight,” he says. “In celebration of Jinyoung’s safe return. My father will compensate many of you, beyond what his security advisors suggested, because of my interventions. You ought to be grateful, and only think kindly of Jinyoung should you part.”

Jaebum remains blank as he watches BamBam whirl out of the room, the doors slamming shut. The room feels cooler then, despite what he can recognize as the warmth of sunbeams at his back.

Jinyoung stares across at him, face crumpling in the quiet realization of their fates.

Jinyoung gathers his sheet around his body, and tentatively crosses the room to Jaebum’s side. The linen drags on the stone behind him, and not for the first time, Jaebum thinks they must make a strange sight together. Jinyoung, somehow wearing a wrinkled sheet with all the dignity of a royal cape, and Jaebum left in only breeches.

As Jinyoung joins him, the morning sunlight lights up his hair, his face, his pale hand as it darts out to clutch at Jaebum’s unbuttoned waist. Jaebum thinks he looks like an angel, bearing bad news.

“I want to spend my life with you,” Jinyoung admits, and it's so softly said it washes over Jaebum without much impact at first.

“But I don't know how,” he whispers, voice hoarse in the suddenly heavy quiet of his room. Then Jaebum’s heart is decidedly tearing apart.

“Would you try?” Jaebum asks, his own hand rough and trembling as it traces down Jinyoung's jawline.

Jinyoung nods solemnly. “I'll request an audience with my father, at the very least. Anduçal still deserves our help, and I can't abandon that entirely.”

Jaebum nods, swallowing heavy and looking down at their feet. “But I should go,” he says.

Jinyoung’s breath seems to hitch, and Jaebum knows it's because of a familiar pain, the same bitter twist he feels in his own chest at the thought of separation.

“I'll be back,” Jaebum is hasty to assure him. “For the banquet.”

_ And for you, _ is left unsaid, but as Jaebum raises his head he finds Jinyoung’s eyes waiting for his, and Jaebum feels it echoed back at him anyway.

 

//

 

“Your father is a very busy man,” the King’s chief advisor tells Jinyoung and BamBam, sternly. “He’s deeply engaged, confirming security detail for the banquet tonight.” 

With this, he gives BamBam an especially odious glare. “You know,” he says. “The party for all the criminals.”

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows but says nothing as the older man turns away, but he can sense BamBam seething beside him. Once they’re out of earshot, his brother huffs in irritation.

“That squid of an advisor thinks I’ve grown  _ too attached _ to the pirates,” BamBam says, “Father whispered a question about it to me at dinner.”

Jinyoung knows it’s well beyond his place to tease him about such a thing, so he stays quiet, but his eyebrows remain high.

BamBam hits him lightly on the arm anyway. “Don’t you dare say a single  _ thing!”  _ He crows. “The point is, everyone is puffing him up with these terrible stereotypes and generalizations. And  _ yes, _ they’re  _ criminals, _ but it’s better to encourage good behavior in this instance than create some kind of terrifying regime that the Cranks will target next.”

Jinyoung nods, again taken aback by BamBam’s growing insight for governing. “But how are we going to approach Father?” He asks.

BamBam crosses his arms, eyes sparking defiantly. “We do what every child does, when one parent won’t listen. We get the other one on our side.”

The queen of Avanth is scurrying around the kitchens when they finally find her, tasting dishes and overseeing preparations for the evening banquet.

She screeches in excitement when she sees them, ushering them over to taste a slowly bubbling stew.

Jinyoung and BamBam both patiently offer open mouths and follow up their bites with exaggerated praise, noises of deep satisfaction and belly rubbing.

The queen looks at them suspiciously, but commends the sous chef warmly. She then gathers them swiftly and leads them out of the sweltering room and to the gardens.

“What are you two plotting?” She demands, releasing their elbows once they’re in the fresh air. “You’ve never shown an interest in the food preparation before.”

“Are you raising royalty or servants?” BamBam counters.

“Royalty  _ should act _ as servants,” his mother flicks him in the ear. “They ought to serve their public, and make decisions in their interests.”

Jinyoung clears his throat, looking down at the gravel of the courtyard uncomfortably. “We have some concerns about how best to do so,” he says. 

The queen still looks ruffled but intrigued. “Following your father’s wishes,” she says, “is nearly always the best choice.”

“And what if it’s not?” BamBam asks. “His advisors will try to punish the pirates, regardless of what I keep telling them. And Jinyoung–!”

The queen looks at Jinyoung in surprise. He’s never been the troublemaking sort.

“Jinyoung doesn’t want to marry the duke,” BamBam finishes quietly.

His mother’s jaw tightens, and she looks around the courtyard in mild alarm, noting some of the servants pretending not to listen.

She takes them roughly by their elbows once more. “A turn about the gardens,” she announces stiffly. “For our health.” Then they’re being dragged through the topiaries, in tense silence for a moment.

“First of all,” the queen says soberly, as they circle slowly around a bush shaped like a bird. “Your father would not have a banquet if he was courting any threat of violence. His intentions remain — as always — to throw a damn good party. His advisors have been stern, yes, but if there was a serious chance of military action, he’d never endanger us, least of all in our fineries. You know he absolutely loves to dress up for these things.”

BamBam looks acceptant of this point.

“As for Jinyoung’s – issue,” she sighs, loosening her grip. “You understand this deal isn’t solely about  _ you, _ right? I thought you’d been fairly clear before your kidnapping: this deal benefits both Avanth and Anduçal greatly.”

“I don’t disagree with the trade deal,” Jinyoung insists. “And in the course of my journeying, I found Anduçal desperately in need of our military reinforcement, more than ever.”

The queen blinks at him in surprise, tilting her head in curiosity. “Then why don’t you want to go through with it?” She asks.

“I do not believe marriage is the only way we could achieve these objectives,” he says. “If we use the bride price to supplement an ambassador instead, commission the same resources for military training, and perhaps employ some of our latest, less officious sources of criminal expertise, I think we can better rehabilitate the region.”

The queen purses her lips, eyeing him up and down. “What is this really about?” She asks.

“He’s in love with someone else,” BamBam offers.

Jinyoung bristles, cheeks aflame, and turns away from them as they cluck and sigh at each other.

“Why hadn’t you mentioned this beforehand?” The queen whines. “Before the Chae family had paid us, and we’d worked through this? You seemed so agreeable before.”

“He didn’t know then. He met him while he was kidnapped,” BamBam continues, voice dry. “He’s a pirate.”

“Oh  _ my–!” _ His mother gasps, clutching onto his sleeve once more. “Jinyoung, you are my  _ sensible _ step-son,” she says. “What happened to that?”

“It’s not sensible to auction my hand off to the duke, when we can work with him regardless,” Jinyoung counters, whirling around with red cheeks and eyes like steel.

The queen steadies herself slightly then, staring across at him in surprise. “You’re serious?” She asks. “About the ambassador replacing you?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung grits out.

“But he’s  _ also,” _ BamBam says, looking across at him with an eyebrow raised. “Serious about that pirate.”

His mother’s eyes roll back, leaning heavier against him again, and she pats her sweating forehead with a distressed noise. She pauses abruptly then, taking a deep breath. “Is he… very handsome, at least?” She asks.

_ “Mother!” _ BamBam cries out, looking betrayed.

“Well, what  _ is it  _ about him?” She demands. “Because honestly, if it’s just some scrumptious treat, you’ll learn to move on.”

“He’s a good person,” Jinyoung says. “And his crew – have been so kind to me. I’ve never felt so… at ease with anyone.” He skirts around the words  _ love, _ and  _ home, _ because he knows they could sound hurtful. He loves his family, without a doubt, and the castle will always be a part of his life. But it’s a different dynamic, and it’s hard to explain the warmth of it without sounding hysterical, or ungrateful.

“Oh no,” the queen says, wearily.

“What?” BamBam worries. 

“It sounds serious,” she declares.

BamBam rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh.

The queen crosses over to Jinyoung, touching his arm gently and tipping his chin toward her.

“Have you told that man?” She wonders. “Does he know you love him?”

Jinyoung hesitates, at first wanting to dispute it as he hasn't fully admitted it to himself. Instead, he shakes his head with a murmured  _ no. _

The queen presses her lips tightly together grimly and then sighs. “It's good you haven't,” she says delicately. “If only for his sake. Because while you may have a good perspective on how we can offer aid to Anduçal without marrying the duke — as prince, you still must submit to our decisions upon your union. To anyone.”

Jinyoung’s heart sinks, fast. It confirms that while he may be able to delay this marriage, he still isn’t free to be with whomever he wishes. There could be another suitor already in waiting. The king and queen will still be looking for the most prosperous match. 

“As royals, we still have an  _ obligation, _ to the nation,” she tells him, and Jinyoung rips his arm away from her, tears welling up in his eyes already, even as he nods sourly. “It has to benefit your constituents,” she says, but he doesn’t want to hear it, spinning away from them to hide his anguished face.

He walks briskly, bitterly, back to the castle. Alone.

 

//

 

_ Avanth Palace, Grand Hall; _

Jaebum is nervous. BamBam’s words had reassured him earlier, but leading his men into the conspicuously bright glow of the ballroom still feels strange. He’s certain the other pirates in their little mob feel it too, as they all skitter around the edges of the room, like vermin afraid of the light.

And he realizes, the only guarantee he has to go on is BamBam’s word. Jaebum trusts Jinyoung, but he had never promised him safety. Said he would try his best to approach his father, but swore no oath. And even BamBam had whacked him over the head with a branch, had insinuated how easily it would be to ambush the pirates.  

But they were still here, and safe so far, and there were delicious little canapés being passed around on trays. Yugyeom had a mouthful and still took two in each hand before the waiter managed to scurry away with an embarrassed face.

Youngjae was sipping at a dry wine and making a hideous face of distaste. Mark and Jackson beside him were chuckling and teasing as they watched him, but neither seemed particularly eager to finish their own goblets.

Everyone had made some semblance of effort in terms of clothing, although compared to the courtiers and other guests, nothing looked quite clean enough.

Jaebum tugs uneasily at his same old coat, wistfully watching a tray of little sausages circulating the room and praying it’ll make its way to him before Yugyeom.

He’s just managed to snatch two and stuff them into his mouth when a trumpet fanfare nearly makes him choke.

The royal family makes their entrance then, and Jaebum barely figures out to breathe and chew at the same time. Yugyeom dares to chuckle at him, his own appetizers gone and looking at ease beside Jaebum.

Jaebum musters as menacing a glare as he can around his mouthful, and then glances back at the assembled family on a riser at the center of the room. BamBam has turned toward them and they awkwardly lock eyes. Jaebum hastily chomps down on the meat, before forcing himself to swallow and wincing in discomfort.

The younger prince turns away coolly, but Jaebum sees the rising curl of a mocking smile fluttering as he continues greeting the crowd.

Great. As if assaulting his brother on the beach didn't already make for a truly stellar first impression, his reputation with BamBam just continues to plummet.

Jaebum runs a tongue over his teeth as he continues to scan the platform of glittering nobles, and then his breath stutters.

It’s not that Jaebum had never thought of Jinyoung as regal. He had – was impressed by his graceful gait and composed reactions even early on. But as they’d warmed to one another, they grew comfortable and intimate, and the Jinyoung he likes to remember when he’s alone is naked and teasing, with flushed skin, musky with sweat.

This Jinyoung is  _ Prince Jinyoung, _ a national treasure that Jaebum had never quite witnessed.

His hair is swept up, trimmed and parted neatly, eyes romantic with just a sigh of shadow, and ripe, rosy lips curled politely at the courtiers and their audience. He’s in a silver brocade coat, made iridescent in the stunning bright lights of the hall, and a finely crafted silver circlet rests above his brow. The crown is made to mimic blossoms, Jaebum realizes, as if fallen, curling petals have frosted magically around the prince’s face, diamonds like delicate seeds.

And Jaebum, who has never considered royalty beyond the name of a country, beyond the crest on a coat, thinks for the first time he ought to kneel before someone.

BamBam, beside him in a coordinating gold ensemble, whispers obviously into Jinyoung’s ear. He gives a nod in Jaebum’s gawking direction, and then Jinyoung’s calm, handsome gaze is meeting his.

Jaebum can tell he struggles not to react visibly, but the warmth that sparks in his eyes is more than enough to assure Jaebum that beneath the fineries, he is still the same Jinyoung.

The Jinyoung who’d kissed him foolishly when drunk on mead, the Jinyoung he’d made love to before selfishly sailing away, and the Jinyoung who’d saved his life.

His face doesn’t slip, turning away after a long moment, but Jaebum sees enough to  _ know _ him, and it comforts him. Perhaps he can be at peace with leaving him here, if it’s what the prince asks. Perhaps he can live with drinking in his beauty from afar. 

But Jaebum’s palms sweat, his toes curl in his boots, and he feels his cheeks flush as he remembers Jinyoung riding out his pleasure atop him, and he knows he will never quite be satisfied without him.

BamBam is whispering something obviously egregious again, and Jaebum sees Jinyoung pushed to a limit, cheeks pink and eyes alive, pursing his lips tightly to hold back a laugh. They’re saved by the King’s call to remarks, a lively trumpet tune that Jinyoung uses, along with a hand over his smiling mouth, to hide a laugh as the rest of the room bows. Jaebum envies BamBam for being able to hear his hidden, smoky chuckle.

“Shall we begin?” King Park suggests jovially, nodding warmly at his sons.

“On this day, you may have noticed: we have a colorful mix of characters joining us.” He gestures at the natural split that’s become apparent between the two differing groups. Noblemen to one side, pirates to another.

As the crowd shifts, Jaebum even spots Duke Chae across the hall, wine goblet held lazily and surveying the scene blankly. Jaebum’s stomach twists. 

“But Avanth is a place of hospitality, and we will celebrate with them as genuinely as we would any other guests,” King Park continues. “On another night, you may have found them intimidating. But tonight, they’ve brought my son home. And as such, they have my deepest gratitude, and tonight – they will be our guests of  _ honor.” _

 

//


	13. Onward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be finally wrapping this up. Endings always give me the most trouble, and I'm always worried you guys will be bored, especially when I've pictured the same resolution in my mind for so long. This is the moment where I always second-guess myself. But this story has been such a fun time for me, and I'm so proud of this universe, so I have to conclude it the way I intended.
> 
> This probably should have been two separate chapters but instead, it's one big one. Not sure you guys will mind. As always, thank you so much for all of your comments here and on Twitter and CC... it's so energizing to hear your thoughts on every little thing along the way. I hope you guys enjoy this and thank you for reading!

_ Avanth palace; _

The night waxes on. Jinyoung gazes out the hall’s immense windows at a perfectly crescent moon with a tired sigh. He’s overwhelmed, suffocated by the dozens of dry, droning conversations with stale, insincere nobility. His family gathers around him, and Jinyoung half expects to be scolded for his low energy.

“I thought you said he wasn't handsome!” The queen whispers instead, and swats him with a handkerchief. King Park looks on in surprised amusement.

“What?” Jinyoung sputters.

“You said  _ he’s a good person,  _ which is something you say about somebody  _ ugly!” _ She hisses, waving toward Jaebum, across the hall. “Not about  _ him!” _

Jaebum glances toward them as if he may have heard something, and Jinyoung purposely turns the other way, praying he doesn't head over.

“I thought it was some wan, scurvied deck boy who writes poetry or something,” she continues. “The way you talked about his  _ crew, _ and feeling at  _ ease _ . I thought you were hiding him, because you were embarrassed. But how could you hide him?”

“Honey,” King Park mutters, waving away a proffered tray of drinks and praying none of the passing guests are listening in. They all are.

“Did you see his tight little–?” She turns to her husband in an eager whisper, two grabby hands extended, and the king lowers them gently, clearing his throat before she can finish.

“I assure you, I did _ not,” _ he says.

“He’s not  _ that  _ handsome,” BamBam mutters, head tilted as he stares across the room appraisingly. 

“Well he’s  _ also  _ a good person,” Jinyoung offers, uncomfortable. He isn't sure if the queen’s innocent attraction to Jaebum makes him feel any better.

“Her Majesty made mention,” King Park rumbles, and they all straighten subconsciously, eyes fixed on him. “That you were dissatisfied with the plans for Anduçal, and indicated a reluctance toward an arranged marriage in general. Is that right, Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung’s eyes flutter downward, cheeks coloring slightly. “Yes,” he says.

“She and your brother have also made it known to me,” the king continues, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, “this may have been influenced by... an ongoing dalliance with one of our pirate guests.”

Jinyoung’s breath hitches slightly in irritation, and he raises his chin to shake his head, small and tight. “It was not his influence,” he says. “My reluctance to marry someone I don’t love, has nothing to do with him.”

“Except for the part where you’re  _ in love  _ with  _ him,”  _ BamBam points out, and Jinyoung’s eyes dart to scowl at him, hot and fierce. BamBam shrinks back slightly, as if he’s been slapped.

The king sighs and steps forward, arm moving to wrap around Jinyoung’s shoulder and directs them toward the high windows and courtyard doors. “Let’s discuss this in the gardens,” he suggests. “BamBam, why don’t you go introduce your mother to the dreamboat in question?”

Jinyoung hears his stepmother gasp in excitement as they head outside, and he barely has time to feel preemptively embarrassed by the spectacle he’s certain BamBam will create.

But then he’s out in the crisp, sweet air of the rose gardens, his father strolling beside him in companionable silence. It makes Jinyoung feel young again, reminds him of the times he’d tagged along behind his flowing capes as a toddler, tugging at the ermine trim and giggling. Before he’d understood that touching his robes was taboo, before anything was expected of him. When he was just his father’s son, not a nation’s prince.

Now, with the bright moon illuminating every gem and pearl in his father’s crown, it’s all he can think about.

“Anduçal,” the king starts with a murmur, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful. “Anduçal can be dealt with rather simply.” 

Jinyoung pauses in their walk, frowning at him in surprise. “Simply?” He repeats.

“Your plan to transfer the bride price,” King Park says. “To package it back to them with an ambassador. That’s a fair plan. Someone more neutral in the system over there is more valuable than just a pretty duchess. Working with pirates who are familiar with the region would be good, too.” He frowns as he considers it.

“Maybe a little more direct than I usually prefer – but if there was a crew you really  _ trusted,” _ he adds, raising his eyebrows.

“There is,” Jinyoung asserts. “We can commission  _ the Nora. _ And I’d add Mark and Jackson to that, since they grew up in Anduçal and are intimately acquainted with the Cranks and their methods.”

“It’s a good idea,” King Park says with a nod. “And I think I can work it out over a glass of wine with Duke Chae, tonight.”

Jinyoung nods enthusiastically, heartbeat fluttering wildly in his chest as he thinks of being free, both from a fiancé and any guilt over the politics.

“Ah, but Jinyoung,” the king hums, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “What are we supposed to do about you?”

Jinyoung’s heart shudders, his body slowly going numb, as he stares across at his father in silent concern.

“You’re a prince,” King Park says, gently. “An heir to my throne, if you’re not married to another kingdom. And if you are – we select the pairing for prosperity.”

Jinyoung trembles, looking down at his feet and trying to stay quiet.

“It’s just how we agreed to do it,” King Park says. “Your stepmother and I.”

Jinyoung lets out a long breath, trying to force himself to relax, trying to remember the comforting rock of the ocean and the cool mists from the bow of  _ the Nora. _ If he keeps his eyes shut he can almost fully imagine it, Youngjae’s loud laugh somewhere in the distance, a ship cat slipping between his ankles and Jaebum by his side. Instead, he opens his eyes to see his new, polished boots alone on the gravel, looks up to find his father’s kind face looking purposely open and expectant, as if he’s waiting on a reaction.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says softly. “What were you saying?”

“Your  _ stepmother,” _ King Park repeats, face comically blank. “Those are the terms Her Majesty and I agreed upon when we entered into this marriage. But it’s interesting, you know, she was always very insistent upon BamBam inheriting the throne, but had no particular plans for you. You being from my first marriage. Your  _ own _ mother had no such stipulations.”

Jinyoung blinks slowly, even as his eyebrows straighten and drop into a frown. “What are you talking about?” He asks, sterner this time.

“Now, if Her Majesty so pleases,” King Park continues, “she could even strip you of your title. To make BamBam the sole heir. She’s always been very assertive, you know.”

There’s a long pause, as he looks down at Jinyoung, eyes soft again, glittering like starlight. “If she wants to,” he repeats. “What do you think about that?”

Jinyoung is stunned still, fingers curled tight into the silk of his breeches, jaw locked taut as he considers the implication. “D-does she want to?” He wonders. “Would she really do that? Wouldn’t some of our constituents find that distasteful – would anyone be angry with her?”

“Absolutely,” King Park says, cheerfully. “There’d be quite a lot of grumbling from our courtiers, and everybody in the cabinet. Let alone the people in town. They’d be sobbing into their little Peach Blossom Prince plushies.”

“Nobody has a doll of me,” Jinyoung says with an eyeroll.

“They  _ do,”  _ the king titters. “You think I haven’t seen them, in the markets? Actually, I think BamBam has a whole set.”

Another beat passes, as they smile at each other. The garden is quiet, the rustle of leaves in the wind a peaceful retreat from the dull roar in the hall.

“But you would be happy,” King Park says, voice like a warm, welcome blanket around Jinyoung. “So I would be happy.”

Jinyoung’s eyes well up and he feels overcome with emotion, unable to respond for a long moment. He swallows, heavily, sucks in a breath and reaches out to grip his father’s wrist. “Would I still be able to see you all?”

“I insist you visit twice a year at a bare minimum,” says King Park. “Nobody’s exiling you.”

Jinyoung suddenly bursts into tears, feeling lightheaded. He isn’t certain if this is real or not. 

“Why would you do this for me?” He asks, and his father cups his face, wipes away a spill of hot tears.

“Because we love you,” he says. “And when you were gone, I thought you might be gone forever, and I couldn’t bear it. But then, when you came home, your eyes were still so far away. And I can’t bear to see that for the rest of our lives.

“If making you happy is as simple as supporting your wishes, as letting you out of this, then your stepmother and I are willing. We’re willing to do what it takes, even if it means playing the villain for a little bit. With the cabinet, with the public; with anyone. Jinyoung-ah,” the king swallows heavily, as a tear traces down his own cheek. “I saw too much of your sorrow when your mother passed. I don’t want to see your face looking like this, ever again in my life.”

Jinyoung is silently sobbing, chest heaving as he crumples to his knees, his father’s hands helplessly falling away. Jinyoung grips at the royal mantle, hiding his face in the heavy cloak.

And then, King Park bends to meet his son, putting his knee into the gravel. There’s a sharp gasp from one of his bodyguards in the distance, and another one croaks,  _ “Your majesty,” _ but a sharp glare from King Park silences them. Then he’s tenderly mopping up Jinyoung’s face with his cuff, straightening the circlet where it’s slipped slightly. 

“Now,” he says firmly. “You ought to smile. I need to see a return on my investment.”

And Jinyoung laughs, even though his throat feels thick, his heart heavy in his chest with the serious weight of his parents’ sacrifice.

King Park helps him to his feet, and then Jinyoung dusts off both of their breeches, ruffled and slightly embarrassed. His eyes are still red-rimmed as they start back toward the banquet, the king holding his hand tightly and pausing before they go back inside.

“There are just a few stipulations,” his father says. “You must visit us, as I said. Or send a message, so we know you’re safe.”

Jinyoung nods and bows shortly, neck still stiff with slight disbelief, stomach churning with excitement.

“And it’ll be good, don’t you think, to accompany the commissioned ship to Anduçal,” King Park hums. “Since it was your initiative, it would be beneficial for you to be there, to see it through.”

Jinyoung’s breath hitches slightly and he hides it with another nod, thinking gleefully already of Youngjae and Yugyeom’s sweet faces. And Jaebum — he shouldn’t think of Jaebum yet, if he wants to stop crying.

“My other request,” the king says, brows raised, “may be a little more difficult.”

Jinyoung nods hastily, ready for whatever is required of him.

“You can't mention this to anyone tonight,” King Park says. “I know you want to burst out into song, or I don't know, whatever young lovers do,” and the teasing gleam in his eye seems to imply that he knows exactly how they would celebrate.

“But this is a state secret,” he says. “We will have a very quiet ceremony tomorrow, just the family and select members of the cabinet to witness. But your captain can't know yet. The people will learn once you've left, when we’ve prepared an adequate statement. But we don't want you being held back in any way.”

Jinyoung nods, slowly. It will be difficult, pretending to part ways with Jaebum, knowing the truth. But they've done it several times now and once more won't hurt them. Not with the knowledge that it's just one more day.

Jinyoung had honestly expected to wait longer, had expected to run away in a mess once he could bear it no longer. This is clean, and will be worth keeping quiet.

King Park lingers there with him a little longer, watching the pink shift from his eyes to his cheeks, the plump smile returning to his lips. And he’s certain in his decision.

 

//

 

They return to the festivities in time for the feast, long tables having been set up around the perimeter of the hall, and the king’s table at the center. Waiters are already distributing drinks, but the guests all rise to greet them upon arrival. 

King Park makes sure Jinyoung is settled comfortably before quieting the crowd, gesturing for them to be seated.

“I am humbled,” he says, raising a glass as the room falls into silence. “To be able to celebrate the health and happiness of my sons, with both our closest friends and our newest acquaintances.”

The crowd politely claps, although tense expressions are exchanged across the hall, differences made more apparent as they’ve separated out into facing tables.

“I hope, in history,” King Park hums, “this will mark yet another chapter of Avanth’s prosperous adventures in trade, another moment in which we secure partnership with our neighbors. Seafaring, or otherwise.” He nods politely toward Duke Chae.

“Your highness,” a grim, decorated older man slowly rises to his feet, and the crowd turns to him in surprise. “I cannot help but interrupt, although I offer my most humble apologies.”

King Park lowers his goblet, brow straightening out as he meets the man’s gaze. “Fleet Admiral Yang,” he addresses him with a sharp nod. “I assume you do not stand to offer your congratulations.”

“To refer to these men and women, washed in like trash from the ocean, as  _ our neighbors, _ is well beyond the appropriate.” Yang growls. “These are  _ criminals, _ who wear clothing bought with sailors’ blood.” At the same table, Admiral Lee stares stonily down at his plate, lips thin.

A similar frown starts to settle into King Park’s features, and he sets his glass down entirely, hands moving to grip his high-backed chair instead.

“Is there any reason we shouldn't execute these men now?” Fleet Admiral Yang continues. “Sitting in our midst as if they're equals — it's a disgrace!” 

“There are two very good reasons,” King Park clucks angrily. “My handsome, healthy,  _ breathing sons!” _

The crowd is set abuzz, glancing back and forth between them in conflicted confusion.

And then BamBam gets to his feet with a tight smile, and the guests fall quiet again. “Your majesty, may I say a word?” He requests, bowing to his father.

King Park nods, albeit uneasily.

“With all due respect to Fleet Admiral Yang,” BamBam says, syrupy sweet and beyond reproach, “there's a lot we can learn from these crews. When Jinyoung’s kidnappers were fleeing through the Bheir Shallows, Admiral Lee had to inform me  _ the Winn,  _ our fleet’s  _ fastest ship,  _ was too large to make it through the channel. Following this route to rescue my brother would have been physically impossible according to Navy protocol.”

The crowd murmurs uneasily, and Fleet Admiral Yang looks flustered.

“Thanks to Admiral Lee’s willingness to cooperate, we were able to send _the Winn_ around the other way for more backup, and a select troupe of us ventured onward aboard _the Bulletproof,”_ BamBam continues, gesturing to a blushing Admiral Lee.

“But if we hadn't had assistance, we could have lost them in the channel — Jinyoung could have been traded off to a less distinct vessel without our knowledge, they could have turned around, docked in Bheir — a myriad of opportunities for disaster.

“And what concerns me more, is what kind of a message does it send to other pirates, if we were to punish those who’ve helped us? Does that make us seem in control, or does that only encourage more vengeful pirates like Cranks, who believe in nothing but our total destruction?”

BamBam pauses to collect himself, cheeks pink with his enthusiasm. “The least we can do is utilize this opportunity, and learn from our guests.”

The room is achingly silent, and then the Fleet Admiral huffs, sitting down and scooting his chair in loudly and grumbling into a dinner roll.

“My son raises quite a counterpoint,” King Park says, reaching out to squeeze BamBam’s elbow before he settles as well. “But in fact all of this brings me to announce my next initiative! We’ll be commissioning some of you, separate from your reward, to assist us in the future.”

“Crew of  _ the Bulletproof! _ ” King Park calls, lifting his glass again, in the direction of the pirates’ table. They've looked on in quiet amusement until now, Suga puffing boredly at a cigar, peg leg propped up on a chair. Now the crew’s attentions snap in surprise toward the front.

“As my son indicates, our fleet would benefit from further innovation. I've heard stories now of your amalgamate hull, with a magnificent, piercing bow. Would you be willing to consult with our naval engineers?” The king asks.

J-Hope gapes in surprise for a moment, itching at his patch and glancing at Suga and then at the floor. Suga drops his leg and straightens up, clearing his throat.

“Your engineers would be best off consulting with our own… engineer of sorts,” he says. “But that would be Namjoon — a man in town whom you've met previously, actually? From um, when he lost the prince in the first place.”

_ “He was stolen,”  _ J-Hope corrects him in a loud whisper.

“I mean, he hid the prince,” Suga corrects himself, even as J-Hope covers his mouth and tries not to laugh at his floundering. “But then was… more easily stolen. I just mean, you may find him unpleasant. Your majesty.”

King Park looks a bit pale, as if the memory of Namjoon’s flustered apology is indeed unpleasant. But then he brightens and nods. “We would appreciate if you would still make the connections, with Admiral Lee.”

“Additionally,” the king sighs, after a long sip of wine. “Prince Jinyoung has raised concerns over our ventures in Anduçal. As we have come to understand, Cranks have been suffocating the region for the past few years. With a new trade route on the horizon, it is in our own best interests to expand our approach in two ways.

“For one, we will redirect the sum of our bride price to establish an embassy presence, so that our approach will not be force-based alone. We will help rebuild with and train Anduçal’s own people, as well as scrub the Cranks from the area.

“But again; we would be foolish to head blindly into such an effort. Instead, we'd like to commission one or two more vagrant vessels to assist as privateers. I understand  _ the Nora _ has connections with the locals, and would be capable of digging out the worst by their roots.”

Jaebum shifts awkwardly as King Park directs the room’s attention to his table.

“Captain Im?” The king addresses him, and Jaebum looks like he's split whether to stand or stay seated. “Would your crew endeavor to do so, with our cooperation?” 

Jaebum stands shortly and bows abruptly, pale like he's seasick for the first time in his life. “We will,” he says, sitting again immediately.

There's a chortle from farther down the same table and Jooheon is hiding his dimpled face in Jackson’s shoulder. The king ignores them and thanks Jaebum politely, glancing aside at Jinyoung in amusement.

As King Park toasts to the start of the meal, Jinyoung bristles slightly from his place at the head table. He thinks about how Youngjae had so gently spoken about Jaebum’s misguided efforts to do some good as a pirate. 

The other pirates can chuckle about the king’s selection all they’d like, but Jinyoung knows no one else would be as well suited to a mission where the core objective is rehabilitation. They weren’t sailing to Anduçal to fight and plunder for themselves. They were going to help people. And that was all Jaebum had ever wanted to do. 

 

//

 

After dinner, there’s lively music and turns taken about the dance floor. Some of the courtiers insist on traditional numbers, but a tipsy BamBam is already improvising new footwork with some of the pirate crews. 

During a  slow song, his moves fully devolve, rocking back against a flushed Yugyeom until Jungkook spots it and quickly pulls them out of the dancing crowd.

BamBam whacks his valet lightly for interrupting, but he turns glossy eyes back to Yugyeom immediately, leaning in close and tugging at a suspender.

_ “You,” _ murmurs BamBam, “are a  _ very _ good dancer.”

Beside them, Youngjae and Jackson burst into laughter, Youngjae wheezing slightly. “He’s had a lot of experience,” he says. “Dancing with skinny little mops.”

BamBam doesn’t seem to take offense, his nod a bit too exuberant to be sober.

“I think you're a touch sloshed, your highness,” Jungkook snickers beside them, reaching out to steady BamBam by the elbow. “Perhaps you ought to consider retiring to your room for the remainder of the evening?”

BamBam hums for a long moment, eyes and hands still plucking at Yugyeom’s form, even as he sways a bit toward his valet. “I will retire,” he says a bit too loudly, "and you will bring this man to my room.”

Jungkook frowns at him skeptically, shuffling him toward an exit already. “I don't think you’ll be awake for much longer,” he says frankly. “And this person is my friend – you cannot request him as delivery, he’s not a parcel.”

Yugyeom perks up, reaching out to tap BamBam’s elbow meekly. “Anyway,” he says brightly, “I can walk there just fine.”

Jungkook’s frown settles in a little deeper, tilting his head at Yugyeom.

“You know – he’ll honestly pass out the instant he unbuckles his belt,” Jungkook says under his breath. “I won’t let you touch him in this state.”

“But,” whispers Yugyeom, face hopeful. “I bet he has a really nice bed?”

Jungkook blinks at him in surprise for a moment and then laughs, nodding. “I see what you’re after,” he says. “Come on, you dog.”

They head out, brushing past a now stunned silent Youngjae and Jackson. Mark sips at his wine with raised eyebrows. 

 

//

 

Nearby, Jinyoung sees them slip out of the hall and is quietly suspicious, but he decides against drawing any extra attention. He’s grateful enough that BamBam is off the dancefloor. 

Jaebum is a few paces away, and the tension between them is thick. They’ve only greeted one another, and then drifted strangely apart, each more uncertain than the other about how to act in public.

Jinyoung still feels more comfortable with this side of the crowds, especially after he’d hugged Minhyuk earlier and they’d tried to approach some of their previous acquaintances together. Their friendly, interlocked elbows were stared at in disbelief. With noses held high, many nobles refrained from more than a greeting.

Jinyoung was curious about Minhyuk’s story, abruptly romantic and a bit foolish like Jinyoung’s. It comforts Jinyoung to see his wide smile, to see how warmly he watches Hyunwoo, speaking about their time aboard  _ the Monsta. _ They snicker together quietly, and then Jinyoung’s heart swells as he watches him hurry back to his crew.

Jinyoung does feel a strange sense of relief, as if the way the courtiers had snubbed Minhyuk releases him from feeling any guilt. If this is how they treat outsiders, Jinyoung owes them no explanations or goodbyes. He’s been nervous about regret – not that he’d had any grand plans as a prince. But he’d wondered if he would regret slipping away so quietly, so quickly and without warning. So far, it doesn’t seem likely.

It grows late, and Jaebum still watches Jinyoung from a distance, even as he’s approached by a familiar face.

The duke bows low, and he blinks up at Prince Jinyoung with warm, friendly eyes. He looks very handsome, straightening up again with his wide lips pursed, another silky, wide ribbon tied around his neck.

The guests immediately take notice, several courtiers gathering in clusters to watch and whisper. Jaebum’s stomach twists icily in envy. He hovers awkwardly to the side, limbs going stiff as he watches Jinyoung’s fingers slip over Hyungwon’s, in a simple, brief handshake. A watching woman fans herself fervently, letting out a quiet squeal at the minimal touch. Jaebum scowls at her.

But Jinyoung doesn’t seem to pay them any mind, nodding smoothly. “It is good to see you under better circumstances,” he offers.

“It is,” Hyungwon agrees, a soft hum curling low in his throat. “May I request a dance, before the end of the night? If it would please you.”

And Jaebum literally scoffs out loud, turning his head away in distaste as his jaw juts out. 

Jinyoung curls his lips in to hide a smile, barely managing to withhold the laugh that bubbles up. Hyungwon doesn’t react at all. Jinyoung composes himself quickly, tilting his head. “How kind of you,” he acknowledges. “I’m feeling rather fatigued from all the excitement of the week, but perhaps later in the evening.” 

Hyungwon blinks in some surprise, and Jinyoung can tell he notices the subtle rejection. To his credit, he takes it in stride, equally deft at playing the role of a gracious, barely affected noble. 

When he’s floated away, the absolute picture of dignity, Jinyoung turns sharp, reprimanding eyes on Jaebum. The pirate is slouched beside an ornate wall sconce, arms crossed and watching Hyungwon leave with a pursed, satisfied scowl and a tight jaw, as if he’s told him off.

“Captain Im,” Jinyoung says, quiet and terse, stepping into his space with his teeth grit. “Would you mind salvaging some self control?”

Jaebum flares like oil on a flame, straightening up and curling intimidatingly toward Jinyoung even as the watching courtiers gasp and murmur in distaste.

“I didn’t say anything to that fishface,” Jaebum complains, nodding roughly toward Hyungwon’s retreating back. “He gets to flounce around and stroke your hand, and I’m supposed to smile about it?”

_ “Ideally,” _ Jinyoung hisses.

Jaebum creeps closer to him, eyes hungrily taking in his expression. Jinyoung has a familiar, defiant sparkle in his eyes, and the glittering reflection of his crown’s diamonds shift across softly flushed cheekbones. 

“You  _ like _ this,” Jaebum blurts out, as he steps back with a breathless laugh. “You love it, a bunch of greedy suitors scrabbling to reserve a dance, their paws lingering on you while I have to watch.”

Jinyoung frowns, gripping Jaebum’s coat by a lapel and yanking him forward again. He can hear as the flustered lady in waiting behind them drops her fan entirely.

Too close, Jinyoung scans Jaebum’s face as well, rosy and flushed, his eyes avoiding Jinyoung’s. Jinyoung takes a big whiff, nostrils nudging dangerously close to Jaebum’s pursed lips. “Have you been  _ drinking?” _ He whispers in surprise.

Jaebum swallows heavily, and sighs in resignation, finally gazing down into Jinyoung’s searing, searching eyes. “I had one flute of champagne,” he admits. “To relax.”

Jinyoung loosens his grip on his jacket, but when he glances over his shoulder, the crowd is still entranced, paused comically in their festivities and eyes watching from nearly every corner. Jinyoung pulls back slightly, but Jaebum’s face follows, breath warm on his neck.

“Maybe it was two,” Jaebum whispers in his ear, voice low like a purr. “I’ve been  _ nervous, _ your highness.”

A shudder traces down Jinyoung’s spine, and flustered, he herds Jaebum away entirely. The scandalized whispers in the hall pitch louder as they head out of the room, but Jinyoung ignores it, just as he ignores the heat in his cheeks.

Then he's dragging Jaebum by the hand, down long, winding halls and up two flights of wide, marble stairs. They stop just short of Jinyoung’s bedchambers, his two posted guards assessing them peculiarly.

Jinyoung heaves a sigh, and for the sake of appearances, tugs Jaebum further down the hall into his library, instead.

Nevermind the guards already know the rooms are adjoined. At least, for the moment, it will look a little better, fend off any questions Jinyoung doesn’t have patience to answer. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Jinyoung demands, locking the door behind them with shaking, embarrassed hands. He whirls around to glare, but before he can spit out another word, Jaebum slams him against the door and his lips seal over his.

The taste of champagne on hot, damp breath floods Jinyoung’s mouth as it’s pried open, jaw locking almost too wide. Jaebum’s tongue spears inside, wet and thick against his own, making it hard to breathe. Puffing impatiently through his nostrils, Jinyoung snakes his hands up between them, gripping into Jaebum’s collar so he can get a better angle and keep up.

Jaebum isn’t drunk, Jinyoung can tell, he really has just been anxious. Jinyoung can feel the difference in the way he grips him now that he feels safe, the way he knows how to move his body with Jinyoung’s. He’s confident back in the realm of the familiar, sure with each stroke of his tongue, fingers impatient but certain.

Jaebum huffs against him, tongue curling up to drag along the roof of his mouth, and then saliva snaps messy between them as he draws back slightly. Jaebum’s hands drag down his sides to dig into his thighs and hitch them up and apart, and then he’s rolling their hips together. Jinyoung lets out a low whine, and his legs wrap around Jaebum’s waist reflexively, back bracing into the wood of the door, as Jaebum thrusts roughly forward again.

Jinyoung can feel Jaebum's cock hardening as it drags against his own, the friction familiar from the first time he’d settled himself into this man’s lap. Jaebum thrusts up and into the warmth of his groin again and again, until they’re both throbbing, stiff and feverishly aroused.

“You’re mine tonight,” Jaebum growls. “Mine for now. I don’t want to pretend anymore, in that big, ugly room.”

Jinyoung lets out a gasp as Jaebum grips his bottom and moves them, flinging him onto the tufted leather couch in the center of the room, before dipping and stretching out across him once more. He cranks a knee to the side and drives into his center again, grunting with the impact. 

Jinyoung’s head is pillowed on an open book, and the pages rustle with each thrust. He stares up at Jaebum, the pirate’s gasping face framed against the view of the domed ceiling. It’s painted like a bright morning sky, and Jaebum at its center becomes Jinyoung’s sun.

“For now,” Jaebum chokes out, and with careful hands, he manages to ease Jinyoung’s crown off his head, placing it delicately on an end table.

“I’m yours,” Jinyoung murmurs in reply, head tilting back and barely managing to hide a smile. He wants so badly to share the joyful truth, that they can be together.

Then Jaebum is yanking his shoes off his feet, rolling his stockings off his calves and his satin breeches off tense thighs, littering experimental kisses down every inch of skin as he reveals it. He even swirls a tongue around Jinyoung’s big toe, up into the arch of his foot until the prince is giggling and gasping and nearly kicking him in the face as it tickles too severely. 

But Jaebum is serious still, mouthing at skin wherever he drags his hands, wet and hot in the wake of trembling, intense touches. Jaebum only seems satisfied when they’re both down to undershirts again, soft crinkled linen feeling well-matched and comfortable, bottoms embarrassingly bare against the soft squeak of leather upholstery.

And for a moment it's just friction — open mouthed kisses and scraping of teeth as their bodies slide together. They're both hard, bare legs intertwined as they rut into each other. Every slide of Jaebum’s pulsing erection against Jinyoung's is heavenly, velvety smooth and intoxicating.

Then Jaebum settles back, and tugs Jinyoung up over his lap instead, his thighs spread thick and relaxed. And Jinyoung realizes abruptly, the cool air of the room sighing soft against the back of his own exposed skin, that Jaebum is about to spank him.

And he's so sensitive to the touch — he tenses up even before Jaebum's hand makes contact, as if the warmth or the breeze or the  _ thought _ of being spanked is nearly enough to set him aglow. Jaebum stops short, easing his fingers down to caress the slope of his backside, pressing it up so the fat of it curves up to the small of his back, watches it jiggle back with the release. Jinyoung sighs as he tries to let the soft touches distract him.

Before his breath is out, Jaebum brings his hand down hard across an asscheek. The slap rings out loudly through the room, and Jaebum absently wonders if it even echoes out into the hallway.

Jinyoung's responding whimper is nearly just as loud, or maybe it just seems like it, so welcome and so needy it makes Jaebum's ears flush. 

Jaebum spanks him again, and Jinyoung curls up a little this time, digs his nails into the leather of the couch and breathes heavy. Jaebum can tell it stung more, blossoming white where it was already red. But Jinyoung grinds his hips against Jaebum's knee regardless, noises pleasured and dick leaking slick over Jaebum’s bare thigh. His hips still angle high, as if asking for another.

So Jaebum strikes him again, and as Jinyoung hiccups in startled pleasure, Jaebum slips the fingers from his other hand in between his pouted lips. Jinyoung doesn’t ask, doesn’t protest, just lets them in over the breadth of his tongue with a soft hum. 

Jaebum strikes harder still, a handprint of white now forming crisply sharp amidst magenta, Jinyoung’s bottom now mottled with forceful marks in varying lush shades. He’s blooming under Jaebum’s broad palm, as he suckles slow and wet at his fingers.

It’s Jinyoung’s dripping cock, brushing insistently against his knee, that signals the end of Jaebum’s patience. Then he’s manhandling Jinyoung around, pressing him up onto all fours. Jinyoung’s head droops, gasping for breath already as Jaebum slips a finger inside of him.

And even this touch, slick with his own saliva, is heightened by the lingering burn of slap after slap. Jaebum's other hand moves slowly now, in a comforting glide across one cheek, as if to comfort where he can. His finger dips in slowly but surely, crooks easy in search of Jinyoung’s pleasure and finds the spot. Jinyoung gasps, trembling.

Of course, it's only been a few hours since they last did this, since Jaebum had stretched him out and filled him to the brim before. So while the fit is easier, Jinyoung is over-sensitive still, his rim red and swollen raw.

But it sucks up his finger, and Jinyoung pushes his hips back to meet the second one eagerly. So Jaebum doesn't worry about discomfort yet, chasing after another full body shudder like the one before.

Jinyoung doesn't disappoint, yelling out as his back bows and his elbows give out, face crashing into the cushion.

Jaebum pulls his fingers back and then thrusts them back in, angled just so, and he enjoys watching how Jinyoung's body arches in anticipation. But he doesn't nudge into his prostate, purposely keeps the stroke short, and instead slams his other palm down on Jinyoung’s red cheek again.

Jinyoung cries out, voice breaking at the sudden switch of sensation — a stinging pain where he's anticipated soaring pleasure. Jaebum watches his cock twitch where it hangs between his legs, appreciates Jinyoung's lusty, brainless expression as his face presses into the soft leather.

Jaebum clicks his tongue smugly, and he yanks a cheek aside to bite at his inner thigh. Jinyoung hiccups in alarm.

“Are you okay like this?” Jaebum asks, and Jinyoung blinks back at him in some surprise. Even after striking and manhandling him, Jaebum still thinks of his comfort.

Jinyoung hums and presses his hips back again. “Hard,” he hums. “I want you to do it hard.”

Jaebum’s fingers slow though, pressing in and out gently, massaging his insides at a maddening pace, and then slipping out. 

Jinyoung mewls in disappointment, looking back over a lean shoulder with a little frown of surprise. Jaebum curves down over him, the broad warmth of his chest meeting his back, his hard cock brushing between Jinyoung’s thighs temptingly. “If I’m going to be rough,” he whispers. “I have to go get the oil.”

Jinyoung starts to whine as soon as Jaebum has tumbled off the couch and is slamming through the side door to his bedroom. A shiver barely has time to trace down his spine when Jaebum is sliding over the back of the couch again, face tight with determination and a little out of breath.

Then he’s bent over Jinyoung again, kissing messily down his flushed ear, the back of his neck, hands sliding up his shirt to thumb reassuringly at his nipples. 

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” Jaebum hums, and then Jinyoung moans long and loud as he feels the slick coating at his entrance, the press of his bulbous tip there.

Then Jaebum’s giving him what he wants, slamming deep into him, stretching him rough and wide before he’s totally ready. The glide of the oil helps, but there’s still searing heat, and Jinyoung grimaces, gasping as his body bucks with the force of it. His face skids against the cushion, sweaty skin catching and dragging against it.

Jaebum yanks his hips back and then punches them forward, just barely starting to build a rhythm as he does it again before Jinyoung catches his breath.

Then he's pounding into him, and it hurts just enough, just enough for Jinyoung to close his eyes and bite into the leather. There's a burn but it ebbs out into blissful sensations that are left as whispers of color; he thrusts forward and Jinyoung imagines red, he yanks back, flared tip catching on his swollen rim and Jinyoung sees gold.

Their skin slaps loudly, echoing throughout the room. Jinyoung barely holds onto the couch, feeling like a rag doll as Jaebum's hips slam brutally into his marked thighs. He hears the book sliding off the other cushion, the wobble of the end tables as the sofa rocks between them.

But it feels good for both of them, knowing it will bruise, knowing it’ll leave something substantial. Even as Jinyoung knows he’ll see Jaebum again soon, he wants to keep him satisfied, doesn’t want him to spend the night in anxious turmoil. At least this way, he’ll fall asleep exhausted.

“Baby,” Jaebum murmurs above him, voice strained as he snaps into him. Oil drips as he pulls out, and then there's another loud slap as he thrusts in again. Jinyoung can't manage a reply.

Jaebum is thick, and Jinyoung can barely process the bliss of each swift stroke, the hot nudge of him against every ridge of his insides. It's dizzying, the friction building beyond what he can bear, and he’s nonsensically whimpering into the cushion as he tumbles over the brink.

Orgasm hits him heavy, body straining taut with the pull of it, cock spurting untouched against his stomach and spilling onto the worn leather. All of Jinyoung’s senses heighten at once — he can feel Jaebum’s cock pounding steady against his prostate, the sweat on his forehead cooling, the groan of the couch under their shuffling, slipping knees.

Then he feels Jaebum stiffen too, hips grinding to a standstill against his bottom as he pumps him full, as he stuffs himself as far as he can reach. “Is that good?” Jaebum gasps. “Is that good, baby?”

Then, oversensitive and collapsing already, Jinyoung feels the searing heat of his cum, and he can only cry out. He reaches back and clutches desperately to Jaebum’s hip, keeps him close and grinds back, even as he’s still trembling from his own release.

Jaebum kisses the back of his neck softly, loosens Jinyoung’s own grip, straightening them out on the couch as he slips out. Jinyoung whines slightly at the loose sensation, curls his knees up as he feels the fluid trickling out of him. Jaebum fingers some of it back inside, kissing and comforting him softly, humming around the soft curve of his red ears.

“Where’s your smile?” Jaebum whispers teasingly. “What happened to Jinyoung the Jovial?”

And Jinyoung can't help but bark out a tired, embarrassed laugh, covering his mouth self-consciously.

Jaebum watches him, pressed snugly between him and the back of the couch, arm starting to go numb from supporting his head. But he stays curled like this a little longer, gazing down at Jinyoung, his smile natural and his skin mottled, sweaty and human and all his.

Jaebum’s own smile fades away, and they lay in contemplative silence for a moment. “I suppose I’ll see more of you now we’ve been commissioned,” he says, finally.

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows and nods, trying to keep his face as neutral as it would be normally. Jaebum doesn’t look particularly satisfied with this response. 

“But I have to leave tomorrow, anyway,” Jaebum adds.

And Jinyoung nods again, biting down on his lip to keep himself from explaining that he'll be leaving too.

Jaebum huffs and sits up then, pushing his hair back off his forehead and staring around the room in irritated silence. His mood has gone sour, afterglow fizzled out abruptly with another reminder of their separation. He doesn’t look at Jinyoung, but the prince feels grateful. Jaebum is frustrated, but he doesn’t misplace the anger towards him. Jinyoung is privy to this moment of Jaebum struggling with himself, and he watches in silence as the pirate gets up and puts his pants back on.

Jinyoung tugs his shirt down over his hips and watches, curled smaller still on the couch and wishing he could comfort him.

But Jaebum’s foul mood seems to evaporate rather easily, as he begins to wander around the round library in a daze.

Jinyoung watches him take everything in, and he finds his quiet appreciation rather charming.

Face soft and lips parted in awe, Jaebum runs his fingers along the seemingly endless shelving, the dark mahogany smooth and well polished. Book after book after book, dozens of volumes of classics, of rarities, of foolish poetry and scientific wisdom alike. It’s the most breathtaking part of the castle he’s seen by far, having remained staunchly unimpressed by the gilded accents dripping throughout the grand hall, the marble floors and the heavy, finely detailed tapestries.

But  _ this, _ this looks like riches to Jaebum, something to boast. And then he comes to a standstill in the midst of it, slowly peering up at a painted portrait above the door to Jinyoung’s bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it before. It’s of Jinyoung and BamBam, draped in intricately beaded jackets with silken sashes and wearing their matching crowns in silver and gold. The painted Jinyoung, still a teenager with an awkwardly short and pointed hairline, holds a book, while a much smaller, preteen BamBam poses with his little hand atop a golden globe.

Jaebum struggles to take it seriously at first. He especially wants to tease the prince about it as an obviously embarrassed Jinyoung refuses to look at it with him, busying himself.

But Jaebum continues to study it anyway, smile spreading as he takes in all the cliche allegorical touches. “You’ve always been the studious, virtuous one,” he says. “I’m guessing that’s a little prayer booklet?” 

“It was my mother’s diary,” Jinyoung corrects him. “In the eastern wing there’s a portrait of her with it as well.”

Jaebum blinks back up at the painting with eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, your hair looks stupid,” he offers.

“Yours looked worse when we first met,” Jinyoung says, coolly and quickly, crossing to his desk and poking through its drawers.

Jaebum clears his throat, remembering the twists with a small grimace. “Is the storm outside the window behind you, meant to represent the evil wiles of the outside world?” He asks. “Like me?”

“You don’t see yourself in the other window, that we’re facing?” Jinyoung asks. “It’s meant to represent the rich seas of trade. Doesn’t that little ship in the corner look a bit like  _ Nora?” _

“I’m no merchant,” Jaebum says. “I haven’t any trade to offer for you,” and though he’s turned away, Jinyoung sees his sadness, in the way his shoulders sag.

“But you’re still free,” Jinyoung murmurs, running his hand across an atlas idly, wondering if he’ll be able to keep everything a surprise. He doesn’t want Jaebum to leave without him, doesn’t want him to feel pushed away. But he wants to see light in his eyes again.

“I suppose,” Jaebum agrees, turning and fixing his eyes on him. The heat of his stare is heavy, full even though Jinyoung doesn’t look at it directly. He’s joined him at the desk in the next instant, and Jinyoung pushes the atlas toward him shyly.

“This shows some of the backchannels to Anduçal from the channel,” he says. “You should take this with you, if you’d like.”

Jaebum’s eyes are still on his face, and Jinyoung purposely waits until he feels a finger under his chin, tilting his gaze up. Jaebum looks serious, jaw taut.

“I can take you out of here,” he says, lowly. “If that’s what you want.”

Jinyoung swallows, inexplicably nervous. “When do you set off, tomorrow?” He asks.

Jaebum’s hand drops, visibly deflating. “Maybe in the afternoon,” he says, “the kids seem like they’ll be hungover.”

Jinyoung nods, biting his lip. “I have – an obligation in the morning,” he says. “But please don’t leave–,” and he hesitates, not wanting to give too much away. “Please don’t leave too early,” he says, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Jaebum blinks once, twice, still looking distraught, and sighs long and heavy.

“Will you take me as a lover?” He asks, hand dropping to paw down Jinyoung’s loosened sleeve.

Jinyoung coughs out a scoff, looking up in surprise. “What?” He asks. “What do you mean?”

“When you’re duchess,” Jaebum purrs, and tugs him towards him by the fabric, even though a corner of the desk is still in between them. Jinyoung’s hips bump into the edge, and it squeaks abruptly across the stone floor.

“Will you have me in secret, at least?” Jaebum asks. “Will you let me in your balcony window, even there?”

Jinyoung’s breath hitches, and he’s overcome with emotion. He wants to tell him so badly – they won’t have to sneak around, at all. But he’s promised his father, in order for it to go smoothly.

“I love you,” he blurts out, instead. He’s not forbidden from this, at least. “I won’t keep it a secret,” he says.

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s tremendous nonetheless, the weight that disappears from his shoulders, the way his heart soars as he says it. And the transformation in Jaebum’s face, lower lip falling away from the top, cheeks blossoming with a flush that Jinyoung’s never seen on him, even in the most passionate throes of their fucking. Jaebum goes soft, as if utterly entranced by the words.

Then Jaebum sweeps around the corner of the desk, takes Jinyoung’s wrist in his hand and brings it to his mouth. He kisses the pulse there, enjoying the way it flutters wildly under his lips. 

“Say it again,” Jaebum murmurs into his skin, and Jinyoung swallows heavily.

“I love you,” Jinyoung breathes, and then Jaebum tugs him into his arms, pressing his face into his bare chest. They spend a long moment in this embrace, Jinyoung’s heartbeat slowly calmed by Jaebum’s familiar, sweaty musk and the gentle touch of his hands.

“I love you,” Jaebum says, into his hair. “And I love being beside you, even if it’s just for a moment. I’ll find you, wherever you end up, and I’ll be with you again. I’ll leave tonight, but I won’t be letting you go.” 

Jinyoung puts his hands over Jaebum's, eyes glistening as his breath stutters, and then they’re kissing again, mouths moving in perfectly matched rhythm. They part reluctantly, Jaebum sighing as he steps back, eyes trailing down Jinyoung’s still-bare legs. 

“Shouldn’t you have been wearing pants for this?” He asks, teasing once again. “Not very dignified.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, returning to his search of the drawers. “I don’t think our etiquette is quite thorough enough to include protocol for declarations of love to a pirate.”

Jinyoung finds what he’s looking for then, drawing out a heavy brass sextant, the metal dulled but the hinging still mobile. 

“I never got around to using this as much more than a paperweight,” Jinyoung says, passing it to Jaebum, who examines the instrument with a small smile.

“I’m definitely stealing this,” Jaebum declares. 

Jinyoung frowns at him. “I’m giving it to you,” he says flatly. “As a gift.”

Jaebum’s eyes roll back and he shoves gently at Jinyoung’s shoulder. “But it’s not very dastardly to receive a gift.”

“It’s not dastardly to lose your precious, broken compass while you’re escapading about, either,” Jinyoung says. “So I suggest you lock that old thing up for safekeeping, and accept a gift as a man.”

Jaebum looks a bit touched, setting down the sextant carefully, but he bites his lip and presses lightly at Jinyoung once more. “I’ll still need a new compass then,” he points out, teasingly.

Jinyoung huffs and turns away, and Jaebum captures him in his arms again, laughing into his neck.

Jinyoung thinks, deliriously joyful, he will have no regrets tomorrow after all.

 

//

 

Jinyoung is stripped of his title in the palace chapel: a smaller, more intimate setting than where they typically hold ceremonies regarding state matters. 

Jinyoung is only vaguely familiar with it from holiday services, his choral performances, and from an old painting long taken down, of his mother on her wedding day.

The room is delicately still, the king and queen utterly silent, and all eyes are on Jinyoung as he enters. The cabinet members sit grimly, looking disapproving but unwilling to interrupt.

Morning light beaming through stained glass scatters fractures of color across the floor. As Jinyoung slowly approaches the apse, he keeps his head low, a dark veil draped over his face and crown. 

The familiar weight of his silver circlet feels strangely heavy now, the reflections cast across his path dizzyingly bright, and he feels somber and elated and seasick all at once.

But then he’s reached the front, and all there is left to do is kneel. Jinyoung folds to the floor upon one knee. His veil hangs low, brushing against his elbows.

BamBam approaches and lifts the sheer fabric, wearing a small, warm grin in spite of the serious tone. The multicolored light shimmers through his hair and crown, cheeks glittering with his smile, and Jinyoung thinks he’ll  cherish this sight of his brother forever. Jinyoung manages a trembling smile in response, and BamBam kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises in Jinyoung’s ear, and then steps aside, still holding the veil aloft.

The queen approaches him then, and her usually soft, cheerful face looks slightly sad. She curls her fingers under his chin, lifting his head. 

“Prince Jinyoung,” she says firmly. “When I married your father, I acknowledged you as my son. And I always will. Time will pass, shadows will fall upon this castle, and the king and I will fade away. But you will still be a son to us, a brother to BamBam, and a most precious flower of Avanth.”

The king steps forward, taking his place beside his wife. “But today, your peerage as prince will be stripped,” he says. “And when you leave the palace, you will do so simply as Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung tries not to smile too widely, but it sounds too good and he can’t help it:  _ simply Jinyoung. _

The queen reaches forward and slips his circlet off his head, leaving the scarf over his head. He isn’t permitted to show his uncovered hair in the palace today. He must remain symbolically shrouded, as he’s had to surrender his title.

The physical feeling of it, as the weight of the silver is lifted away, leaving his neck unstrained, is exhilarating. He hadn’t expected it to feel so much like an unshackling, so much like freedom.

Jinyoung stands and then watches as the queen places the crown into a waiting trunk and locks it away. He can barely feel her kiss on his face then, his father’s after. All the blood is rushing to his ears as he keeps his scarf clutched around his head, the roaring sound of even his body’s anticipation.

And then they’re bowing to him, and he’s slipping away, feet moving swiftly as he leaves the palace behind. He ducks out through the blacksmith’s still empty stall, the way they’d gone in midsummer, and he holds his breath until his boots hit cobblestone. And street after street, villagers peering curiously at his face where it’s partially obscured, or ignoring him altogether, he feels freer and freer.

The wind is at his back now, as if it’s been sent specifically for him, and he nearly flies toward the docks.

 

//

 

_ Docks of Avanth, the Nora II;  _

Jaebum watches Yugyeom scurry about, dutifully taking inventory and directing the crew as they roll barrels on board, neatly stowing supplies and testing the rigging. Avanth has been alarmingly gracious, delivering extra food and supplies without as much as a request. 

Jaebum still can’t quite comprehend that it’s real, that they’ll be setting forth with a country’s jurisdiction, that they’ve found purpose and have a plan. Jackson and Mark had conferred with him in the early morning, and they’d drafted several stages of action.

Something was  _ happening, _ and Jaebum felt for once as if he was in control – as if he was  _ making _ things happen as opposed to having them chaotically ring out around him as usual.

Jaebum sidles up to Yugyeom, thrusting the brass sextant out toward him. “You have my permission to use this as needed,” he says.

Yugyeom eyes the instrument suspiciously at first, but pockets a sheaf of inventory hastily before he finally grabs it away, swinging the index bar back and forth, examining it in hungry detail. “It’s very nice,” he finally says, “since when do we get anything that works?”

Jaebum briefly considers lying, bragging that he’d stolen it from an Admiral. “It was a gift,” he says instead, trying to hide his sadly fond smile.

As Yugyeom turns away to the horizon and presses the scope to his eye to try it out, Jaebum lets his hand slip into his pocket and touches his old compass again.

He fishes out the case with a muted sense of wonder, still surprised by his father’s story, daily learning something new about the man as he’s started to read through the journals thoroughly. It was satisfying to know his parents’ truth, even though it was less noble, less wholesome.

His heart aches as he thinks about his father sailing away, time after time. He can’t help the bitter parallel he finds now, thinking he’s leaving Jinyoung behind again.

With a frustrated sigh, he flicks open the cover, expecting to see its typical, lazy spin. Ever since he’d left Delph it had reverted to its former, malfunctioning state, and while it was useless for navigation he still found it comforting. The movement of it was familiar, and no longer such a mystery.

But now, under a bright morning sun, the needle clicks into place again. Jaebum blinks down at it with a frown, even shakes it a little as if to startle it back into movement. But it holds firm, arrowhead pointing portside, towards Avanth.

Jaebum’s breath hitches slightly, thinking of the mixed signals he’d charted so diligently, thinking of the time he’d marked it on the map and found it directed to Jinyoung in his bed.

It’s a ridiculous thought, he considers, the sort of syrupy feeling he found in the romance novels and poetry books he had in messy piles throughout his quarters.

But here it was, blossoming in his chest so sweetly, the thought of Prince Jinyoung. So Jaebum can’t help himself, dragging across the deck with a tenderly wistful expression, leaning against the opposite rail there and looking out across the docks and into the town.

And then he sees someone.

Jaebum wonders, for a second, if he’s dreaming. He can’t quite tell who it is, their face obscured by a scarf, but he slowly pockets his compass in surprise. Something tugs in his heart and he  _ knows _ who it is, even if he can’t see for sure.

The figure darts through crowds, feet pounding on the dock before he comes to a standstill, and the scarf around him picks up with the powerful winds gusting in from the sea. The veil suddenly flutters across his face, lifting away and flying off into the wind, even as his hand reaches out to try and catch it.

And Jaebum remembers again, abruptly, the vision he had of Jinyoung early on, as he'd sunk away through sheer curtains in the Parlours. The way he'd slipped through the organdy, layer after layer converging with only a whisper. He realizes, it had been the wrong side of the vision.

He sees it now, the mixed up magic of it only revealed in this moment. Here's Jinyoung emerging, escaping the beguiling curtains of his status to reveal his bare head, hair made a mess in the wind. But crownless, shroudless and beautiful, he waves to Jaebum with untied hands and an untethered heart.

In Jaebum’s moment of alarm, in the Parlours, he’d reached out to find Jinyoung waiting. This time, Jinyoung reaches back, and Jaebum realizes he really has found his home.

Jaebum thunders down the gangplank then, and crushes Jinyoung into his arms. Jinyoung loops his arms around his neck, embracing him freely, and lets Jaebum kiss him slow and wet and sweet.

“I’m stealing this,” Jaebum says breathlessly. “I’m stealing you away and I don’t care who comes after us. I don’t care what I agreed to, you’re meant for this, you’re meant to be with me.”

Jinyoung is laughing, as Jaebum litters his face with kisses and swears his intentions. “That’s very dastardly,” Jinyoung says, “but as usual you’re not much of a pirate  – not when you’ve got no one to steal from. I don’t belong to Avanth anymore. I’m no longer a prince, they’ve stripped my crown and my title.”

Jaebum stares down at him in shock, his arms slowly going slack around him. “What do you mean?” He asks, dumbfounded. “Why did they do that?”

And Jinyoung laughs again, open and loud and not very regal after all. “Because I’m yours,” he says joyfully. “Because I’m your first mate now.”

And Jaebum doesn’t argue, doesn’t ask anymore questions. He slots his mouth over Jinyoung’s even as he’s still chuckling, eyes wrinkled prettily. They kiss sloppily, with teeth and tongues, and then a loud, disbelieving laugh from on-deck interrupts them.

Yugyeom, Jackson, Mark and Youngjae are watching them in varying shades of amusement, or hysterics, and even Coco perched on Youngjae’s shoulder is squawking:  _ ‘Gross! Gross!’ _

Then there’s a rattle of hurried boots from farther up the docks, and they both turn in surprise to see BamBam rushing towards them, an enormously feathered hat on his head and Jungkook tottering behind him with a straining garment bag.

“Your _ highness,” _ Jungkook miserably warbles, as BamBam bursts between Jinyoung and Jaebum, BamBam grabbing Jinyoung’s wrist and tugging him up the gangplank. Jungkook meekly hands Jaebum the bag, bowing awkwardly and then hurrying away. Jaebum doesn’t know why he takes it, overwhelmed.

“Set sail!” BamBam is crying out, “let’s go! Full steam to Anduçal!”

Youngjae groans out:  _ “BamBam, _ we aren’t steam-powered,” and Yugyeom sputters at his use of the correct name in surprise.

Jaebum hurries up after them in shock, tossing aside the overstuffed luggage and watching his own crew rushing about to set off, under someone else’s harried command. “What is going on?” He booms, as Yugyeom pulls up the gangplank.

“This mission was commissioned by my father,” BamBam says, watching Jackson and Youngjae drop the sails. “And since my brother’s been stripped of a title, of course you’d all still benefit from some more direct royal oversight.”

“But it would be best,” BamBam continues, “if we explained it in a letter, a little later on.” He glances back toward the castle nervously. “And if we set off,  _ right now,” _ he says.

Jaebum turns to look at Jinyoung, who looks equally bewildered, but then they’re both smiling, even as the ship gracelessly careens back into the open waters.

The mist of the ocean, the sunlight in Jinyoung’s hair, and the bustling, mismatched family onboard assures Jaebum everything is as it should be. They’re perfectly on time, and right on course, for the next adventure.


End file.
